another week of "pushing through"
desires and aches and damnation
in the form of free will
Monday has its claws
upon my back,
digging a path between
meaty furrows
and crackling ribs
when a child,I used to think
time was a friend
and companion-
my twenty first circle upon
a skeleton's tree
demands its clocks and innocence
back
a storm erupts each time
my alarm marks the birth
of yet another challenge
and I can't help but look for
molten hours
flowing from the red phone
the same people,
the same chores,
the same questions-
I keep pushing through,
always pushing through,
though uncertain
whether I really want to.
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