BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

You don't WANT to know how I feel right now ...

Another month spins its way down the toilet, with no job, no prospect of a job, no hope for Eschaton and too damned many hopes pegged on RSI to ever be realized. I just wish people would pay me to write poety ... or maybe pay me NOT to ...


                    this becomes another cage
                    another place where dreams decay
                    and darkness touches everything
                    with tendrils of putrescence
                    here there is no future
                    but for the vile decline
                    here there is no light
                    but for the madness of the fires

                    locked between these worlds
                    there is no escape
                    we are not freed
                    but are exiled
                    to this grey and empty zone
                    which is all loss
                    and no attainment,
                    descent without return

                    we are set
                    as in a gel
                    a spider in Lucite
                    lost inside some drawer
                    we cannot move
                    we cannot do
                    we have no contact
                    we have no context

                    even active days
                    yield naught
                    for every mark we reach
                    is erased by the tides
                    within this cloaking haze
                    every task once done
                    is denigrated, cast aside
                    as not the needed thing

                    and now so few
                    of days remain
                    our safety net
                    has dropped away
                    as we're free-falling
                    down towards the rocks
                    the shattered fragments
                    of a world that waits to kill

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp

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