Where are my words? All the well-behaved nouns and verbs,
All the descriptive metaphors and rhyming scores, no more...
and it's not for impassive thought, but worse - I'm brought
into a playpen of bouncing sounds that consistently abound
every waking hour, on the tip of my pen or parched lip.
On "adjusting to marriage": all is fine; still - in my mind
I'm frustrated; nothing's mine, not even this time I take to write
because it brings us back to the half life - a crime.
On my "job" (which is a job, not a career): I stay clear
of getting sucked deeper. From the bottom, steeper
The ascension to achieve as much as you.
On the spirling "family" ball - stones to haul
and they pile on from day to day; there's no escape
from obligations and new regressions.
On the wars and world - political pearls
like grenades and spades that tout; innocence fades...
there's no peace
and I sit on this weathered night, weary of violet light
because it will all start again the morning, then
where will I be? Still looking for my words to embody these things.