A thick malaise slurs
the day with inarticulate
desires. There is nothing
but dissatisfaction beneath
each prime move. He slips
about the house finding solace
in unread books, in thoughts
of what he might have done.
The pointed questions come:
Why he dawdles over trivialities?
Why he quakes a pauper to his ideals?
Will the last glass of wine be his cause?
Will the safety of his status quo
be the death and guilt of all?
(June 18, 2018)
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