Poem: Losing my direction

This morning I have posted an old post that was caught in the wordpress software, and begged to be released, on the borderlands of madness. And a fast follow-up – this new poem on losing my direction.

Losing my direction

The mornings drift away now.
Spikes in my hair no more.
Seventeen seconds reminds me
The young are never right about life.

It does not matter how hard I work now
Not what I say in those moments on stage:
I am condemned now. I walk the borderline,
And my words fall into the ice.

Habit has become an iron cage now,
Where reason stalks my failures,
Where I spend my days in madness,
And Ezra chants our company into ruin.

Every night floods the purposes of the day now.
Error is all in the not done.
Now, the mornings are a swamp of the not done,
And my legs succumb to the sickening mud.

 

Image source: Michael Stipe from R.E.M. in a scene from video of “Losing my religion.” Rolling Stone.

 

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