the morning line

it’s one of those mornings where
the word wants to come
but the mind says no
perhaps
visions from sleep
and thoughts from
below the surface, deep

dreams of treading through
dangerous waters
crossing to the other side
excitement or appeasement
giving in to abstract desires
it’s the absence of strength

a dream of conjurers of ice and fire
reluctance to follow through
the ghosts of women past
and the best place i’ve ever worked

there i was alone
running along the side of the road
in my underwear
hoping not to be late

soiled expectations
treachery in hidden places
being left alone
to become undone

and always
the image of a tower
as the words of karma
keep hovering behind my eyes
lessons
a teacher and student
separate but then somehow merged
pain heaped upon pain
temptations
all to be released
or else
there is no peace

it seems that
none of this is good enough
i’m winding a watch
with broken gears
and at once i remember

i’m still looking
for that once lost childhood key
the one made of brass
magical and indestructible
it all began then i think
and now i’ve lost my copper cube
symbolic
both sacred
and sacrificed
to an unknown god

still wandering
listen to the cards

no liquor and eventful sleep
leads to
streams of consciousness
that are second to none
honest truths to behold
and perhaps
the night isn’t so cold

don’t let it sit
don’t let it age
instead
let it rage
and click enter

222-the-morning-line

 

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