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Procrast

by Matthew Zangen

I've lain in every bed I've made,
escaping daylight and scutwork
cleaning floors I fed fat,
staying the glut, like the dust I bled,

I asked for all the height I lost,
lavished in no undeserving quality
as I fell off; time again
left a buried man to float away.

05/12/2018

Posted on 05/12/2018
Copyright © 2024 Matthew Zangen

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 05/14/18 at 10:43 AM

Love the feel and the off beat quality of this poem.

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