Perhaps I’m too distracted
to find traction on this dull tundra.
Or perhaps I merely lack
the imagination to uphold myself
and the laws I’ve devised
to govern my desires.
Whatever the case, my bank balance
persists in its campaign to unnerve me,
and the single ribbon of light
that would be my guide
curves slightly to send me down
a more treacherous road.
Even my usual remedy
has me in a chokehold, I think.
But that’s the rub, as they say.
This is the way I’ve chosen,
and whatever dangers it discloses
are surely suited to my own tastes.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 
Reblogged this on Darren Hobson Poet.
When a poem hits me where it hurts– I think its good. This poem hit me.