where did i get such hands, that appear
to be like daddy's, and now. like i'm old.

i bet it's my eyes, again fooling me.
they've fooled me before; when i saw love

and it was a herniated ego, Contents:
Fragile, Handle with Care, This End Up.

a briefcase of notes to self: love, daily.
eyes! look into their eyes, find their soul.

make that sale. be Willie Loman. be ideal;
such a prescription handed to me so late.

it's the tomorrow not gotten to, the hose
not carrying sustenance, essence of water

that i find rather tiring on my nerves;
the relentless day to night phenomenon.

i want to sleep; not die, please hear me!
just rest, loll, let the fat, fluffy clouds

draw-up my youth so i can wear it again.
bring too my armored suit, mail of ego.

05/25/2008

Posted on 05/25/2008
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan