thought i tossed myself aside

(Nonsensical words… that in the end, may make some sense.)

i hate
that
i’m here
i can’t walk away

i swallow words
regurgitate back
print them on paper
smash each crack

success seems close
the walk so long
i buckle under
your outstretched arm

the finger
the trigger
the deadline looms
your solution
to watch cartoons

the old days were better
the future glooms
i made a bed
with barely room

to pardon friends,
toast another drink
it is Friday night
i often think.

Poetry

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