"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Saturday, April 2, 2011

The wronged one

I just barely made it for day one yesterday, so this is me being proactive:
Prompt #02: Unwritten Desire

Behind my eyelids is where I keep
all those things I meant to say
in that days-brief moment
before my mind was made up,
whether or not my heart believed it.
Crossing thoughts are apt to crash,
leave debris strewn across shocked acreage,
but no disaster was more fitting
than a fit of second-guessing
spurred by some dull, sad dedication.

There's a classic saying for this
that no one really means when they recite,
a way of showing what's wrong with me
with as little detail as possible;
acknowledgment hurts more than the wounds.
All I know is a decision I regret,
a choice I'd like to crush and remake,
a speckled blue holdover of two years
that hung around just long enough
to see me burn alive one final time.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Incubus, Punch Drunk

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