nothing fancy

nothing as of late
it’s all random
and without meaning
stop drop and re-roll
invisible and
searching for the perfect moment
breakfast at the break of dawn
sitting with insensitive cats
and the stir of passive traffic

something’s lurking
stirring, waiting
as we are met with suspicion
in the pre-dawn hours
with anger i’m
blocked and
a psychic clock

momentarily inspired
by my artistic muses
life happened and i
let the idea get lost
isn’t that always the case
unstructured and rigid
distracted and frigid

always two voices
there’s a subtle change in this current
and I can’t get this bug
outta my head
puzzle pieces edited
without end

and now
it’s a warm winter morning
hazy and grey in the ending
i have no meditation
other than
petting the purring cat in my lap
trying to hammer out a good poem
and the day is spent doing laundry
thinking about the gym
and necessary shopping
life at almost 40
is incomplete at best


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