Saturday, March 16, 2013

this poem is about work

if I move the more
the more is unmoved

I sit and contemplate
how to counter initiate
but the breathless breathing of
this uphill battle leaves me grieving

so I suffer in the form of sleeping

muscles move the might of mighty men; however, this mighty mans
muscles lack the luster for true strength is difficult to muster

tendons have a tendency to tighten

uphill teething uphill breathing uphill seething

uphill

life's highest point is at it's peak and this I hide my eyes from and pray it is not too steep

with each step I feel the edge, the swaying breeze up in my head

the snap it sounds, the branch it breaks, csweat it pours and forms small lakes

my identity seems to slouch
my mind it races and I race for the couch










matt duke

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