31st March 2009

In all familiarity, the hard work I endure becomes insignificant.
The annoyance of audacity,
     the blur of noise.
I stifle a yawn – what is this feeling that keeps on
     bringing me back to you?
As the sky is grey and the lights affray,
     lighting up somewhere I won’t go.
I think I move fast, I feel the rumble.
My writing has character, and I -
     simply don’t.
Do you want to know what I’m doing?
How this gloom makes me feel?
How the guitar of love notes embraces my sore ears.
I feel I’m too far already; I just want to stay.