Friday, July 27, 2012

See Vermin Run

The wonder of us,
walking water balloons
tottering around
frantically
about our wind-up troubles
coveted baubles,
unrequited loves,
tasks undone,
we jitter to an well-beaten
drum of the incomplete

Too busy to start anything,
too unmotivated to finish,
caught between the hardest rock
and an even harder place
instead of tending to
the slimy machinery within
delicate as clockwork

The reaper pounces after when
a spring or gear snaps,
there are no do-overs
death never gives the runback.

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