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squeamish
You are like a dismissive religious,
You are correct and you know it to be true,
Wrathful when injecting your venom,
Spread the good word!
You have opened your third eye and I have not,
Anyone who doesn't see the world as you doesn't see clearly,
It must be corrected so that we too can be worthy,
No grey,
White and black must be the best channel since you never change it,
Sticky
Wade the sludge poisonous to momentum
One day at a time inching toward the unreachable
And even when there is movement much is adjacent to where I need to go
Some have never had gunk between toes and shit under nose
But I can't let that slow me down when I need every shred of confidence just to pick up the pencil
And not worry every moment about the piper calling and me bouncing up and down like a red trampoline
Did every sacrifice mean nothing will I always be pulled down by this quicksand
I know full well that every day needs to count and that it adds up
But there is more on my checklist so off I go sinking again until the day is out
And I seep my remaining energy into trying to not think about the lack
I can't let a daily escape be my only safe haven I need to work with my hands even though my tools are right out of reach
Are others like me in the same myre missing days until they grow old and fat and their creativity is drained from their brains to their toes
Until you retire and wonder where it all went why can't I tap into it like I used to
The sludge has overtaken my spirit but my will to craft is still flickering
However ones must wonder how much longer until I can step foot on the starting line and out of this fly trap
Robotic
Clinking every step feeling heavier than yesterday
Absurd other than refueling there is no growth in this chassis
Wind up the rear and surge circuits that may
Every stride shoots echos to ring about the trusses
Happy like fresh oil sad like broken charging bay
Buzz goes the fizz of the battery percusses
Shrink down into self parts lined with telescopic splay
Never wonder only move from how the creator executes us
Stained
Elevating downward to rusty nail and shaky cage
Scarred notched wood and metal dinged
Bolts line beams like buckshot
Final floor of the depths piercing bell chimes
Screaming door prys open to reveal green wisping lights that play on the tattered cloth of half dead
They beg for cannot be given
Frail grasps for ankles and wrists
Each breath is fresh dust and yesterday's pipe to coat the lungs
Sticky path with splotches of ageless gooey dark
Endless creaky jungle feeding from the scraps that leak from the cobbles above
Missed A Day
It seems that my new habit of writing daily made a sudden tragic end,
However, not by purpose or of lack of wanting but by being overwhelmed of moving across to a new country,
I need to get back on the rails now that I am in Scotland,
The sights and goings on is so different it is like being a child again learning how to ride a bike time to walk up the hill grab the handles and give it a try,