Thursday, December 25, 2008

Anxiety # 19

There's no room in this, our year.

2008 is sinking and the magnanimous

Are nowhere to be seen.

The sober are absent without leave

And nausea sets in.

The clocks are angry, racing

Madly, tears streaming and

It's all coming to

A head.


I breathe, and try to recompose

But the interruptions are constant,



Can't I just enjoy the silence?

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