Sighs of sorrow escape
so often, they seem to be
the melody of some long forgotten song.
The pain is
constant as an incurable cough,
resilient as rust on
long buried iron.
In such a state,
time goes
slow as geologic history
The byproducts of delusion
are pent up deep
in some small, infinite cavity
of the body,
where anemic blood
tries nourish the unseen tissues
that function as the wellspring
of the soul
An observer might believe
that I am unaware of
these inner things
that I am ignorant
of the daily vexations
that accumulate
like delinquent debts
until they become
unbearable
until they become
unutterable
There is no choice
just keep going
praying for
working for
some type of transcendence
hoping to hang on til
the miracle happens
what else can one do?
Capitano Tedeschi
Hoping to hang on copyright 26 January 2012 by Jamie Jacks
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