end of the month,
time to check my pulse,
check my bank accounts,
sort and organize,
put it all in some kind of better
order.
take stock of things and
clear the clutter.
time to move forward,
get rid of what isn't coming to the next month,
keep what is defining.
time to change the poetry project,
time to change the situation,
time to get out,
before it pulls me down,
time to diagnose,
and listen to what the good doctor says.
it isn't there, baby.
it isn't there.
you want to spend six months or a year
running in a gerbil wheel,
be my guest.
your legs will get strong,
for when you turn your head,
and realize there is a desert out there
and your legs are going to carry
you from one end to the oasis.
This is a blog of some poetry I wrote at different times. Mostly it's about my broken heart.
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