The oil is past impatience
Tired of my watery inconsistency.
The oil dares me daily, as I turn my back in shame
The oil has a face; stern, strong, arrogant
Frustrated beyond words at these 43 year old tendons
The bones crack, wince, piss themselves
Maybe jaundice yellow is the point I must begin...
The mud in my heart is too blue to know any better.
This wretched inconsistency...
Clumpy, coagulated, stolen potency- stewing
Fresh panels wrapped in plastic
The pine suffocates some 48 hours and counting.
I am not even humbled by what I am doing
I am green, like the mountain after battle-
Not fresh, clean, full of flavor-
Green like the ooze of infection - plodding,
Blood-stained, bloated, rotting.
Why do more words fall in line to define this rancid condition?
Should they not revolt instead and beat heavy
All the apprehension I hug like a child trapped in nightmares?
Fucking morsels of criticism, wedged in too deeply
Pop these fuckers like an unwelcome pustule-
And move on for once- driven.
Tired of my watery inconsistency.
The oil dares me daily, as I turn my back in shame
The oil has a face; stern, strong, arrogant
Frustrated beyond words at these 43 year old tendons
The bones crack, wince, piss themselves
Maybe jaundice yellow is the point I must begin...
The mud in my heart is too blue to know any better.
This wretched inconsistency...
Clumpy, coagulated, stolen potency- stewing
Fresh panels wrapped in plastic
The pine suffocates some 48 hours and counting.
I am not even humbled by what I am doing
I am green, like the mountain after battle-
Not fresh, clean, full of flavor-
Green like the ooze of infection - plodding,
Blood-stained, bloated, rotting.
Why do more words fall in line to define this rancid condition?
Should they not revolt instead and beat heavy
All the apprehension I hug like a child trapped in nightmares?
Fucking morsels of criticism, wedged in too deeply
Pop these fuckers like an unwelcome pustule-
And move on for once- driven.
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