On The 31st Day

I’D HAD ENOUGH OF ME DOING ME

Writing For The Sake Of Writing …  

“What More Did I Have To Say?”

That I Hadn’t Blathered Here

… Too Many Times Before.

 

AGAIN AND AGAIN

Same Message, Different Words … 

Scrambled.  Cryptic.  Obvious.

Mumbled, Jumbled.

Word Playing.  Smithing-The-Alphabet.  Jonesing For A Fix.

 

MY PRETTY LITTLE MESS

It All Means The Same Damned Thing …  

When It Means Nothing At All.

Whored My Tongue

… Oh, So Lame.

 

SUFFERING FOOLS

Is Hard To Swallow … 

And, When The Fool Is Me

Its Time To Rest

… Shut It Down, Clown Boy.

 

WHEN THE TRUTH

Gets Clouded … 

Shrouded In Vain

And Purpose Is Bastardized

… With These Lies Come Shame.

 

TRUE PURPOSE

A Cliché That Matters To Me …

Without It I Am Nothing But Being

Being, What?  

… Now.

 

SIMPLY BEING

Will Never Suffice …

Sustain Me Beyond This Breath

The Next

… Or Last.

 

LAST NIGHT, I WROTE

Quiet Now …

Long As It Takes.

Be Back, Not Sure When

… It’ll Be. 

 

OVER NIGHT

A Peaceful Rest … It Was To Be …  

To Decompress The Mind, My Heart Did Follow.

Recalibrate The Senses Back To Common

… Rejuvenate My Spirit So I Could Hear … Hear It In His Voice He Did Speak.

 

MY PASSIVE ADDICTION

Woke Me This Morning … 

No Ego Affliction, Bitten By Passion

Is This Love What I Do?

… Can’t Keep This Dirty Desire Inside.

 

Image by Rebekka D from Pixabay

16 thoughts on “On The 31st Day

  1. Suzette Benjamin

    Michael, yes, the art of writing does fill the writer’s heart with a kind of joy – a passion. And somehow, out of that abundance, that joy-filled heat– pours out beauty in the form of words for the reader to experience his her own kind of joy/passion – Its a miracle!

    Like

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