When the same standard-issue days roll
I am tied, gagged, still on the deck
Of the other night’s sinking dreamboat.

It’s when the city lights become lackluster
And the cool but well-meaning rain
Is not the same one I used to dance under.

I take it I wasted too much time well-spent
On thundering brainstorms and lousy paperwork
For a thing we call a living

that was really weren’t.


(c) 2014 Vivien Marie Lopez
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Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.


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