Sunday, December 26, 1999

Breakwater

Sometimes I hate her; I wish her away
Just too much to drink, but that's that
And I'm already on my way
Back to my prison where she keeps me
With funds and hopes without
Regard for genius in the family
There can't be two. I think about
All my aspirations, to accomplish but
Where is the line drawn between
Mine and theirs? Worn out, drawn out
Kicked out. No one on which to lean.
What can I kick on my floor tonight?
I'm too tired tonight, Christmas, to put up a fight.
Dec. 26, 1999

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