Walking The Wheel

the old man that i am
barks and grinds
in barefoot morning
joint ache

dispassionately perusing
the dailies
ragged worn-out
sober half of my
drug addicted self

they all read like pushers,
feel, feel, FEEL
everything seems too still
i need the animal crazy again
where are all the hungry
stark raving poor
moon sick and mad
with poetry

habits like these
physically taxing

cupboards are bare
stomach a vortex, gnawing
at the impossible

don’t you hate waking
up to damage control?

fresh pot of coffee
and i forgot to buy sugar

© Emerys Watchel, 2016 All rights reserved.


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