Here I go again time-riddled and inaccessible
inexcusable addled with discouragement
lacking in tact harmony and sleep
virtually in hysterics and inconsolable

I never did learn to walk on water
nor a fresh perspective so I suspect
the world has wearied of me
but I’m not really keeping track am I?

Let me descend as deeply as I can
into this bog of bed and blankets
until Spring at the very least

Even then I’m not making any promises
since as it turns out
I’ve no one to impress.

-r. miller

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