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Untitled (3/22/10)

July 6, 2010

that thing, you primed it well,
insatiable, but unlovable
lump of wish
tried so hard for so long
to carve out your age of solace,
coming from the past wearing white and
standing there like new,
an ocean scene comes to mind as favors
prey on the insincere wanderings that lead you back
to your misgivings, and worn, bare disheveled cravings
that peel off but never quite die,
decaying on the vine that wraps around every dream you’ve ever dared to hold
and not defer to what keeps coming back,
and the remains of your comfort
winding down remind you of what you chose to want,
and your every thought hanging taut as if to snap
at the lightest tug

you pull back from the big picture long enough
to see the plans you wrote and hollow futures taper off,
and the old background objects, distractions become foreground,
become your days
somewhere the subject changed

the misery in you wants to keep coming back to stare
at something you think you had but lost

only that sense of foolish, tested anguish
seems so sweet in retrospect,
but it’s always slightly wrong,
it wants something from you that you don’t want
why did you ever want it,

and again, you crave change
and savor something not yet thought about,
something you can’t know yet

the urge to throw away, and leave, and walk further on,

lets that restless hope for something ever closer
to something you once wanted

in that faithless interchange of doubt mingled with cautious joy,
you’ve yet to really forget
the things you cling to

but at least you can sometimes stop and wait

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