how
many days without
a
thought as to where
this
might take him how many
nights
until the saga complete
how
many days
before
he makes it up
ten
stairs to type and
how
many nights alone
honest
connection made
hold
on eternal if he can
how
many days without
a
thought on the direction
headed
nothing concluded
as
if it is nineteen ninety-six
all
over again
how
many days and how many thoughts
have
really changed before eyes
with
no tears and how many potholes
need
to be filled like these poor lungs
with
smoke
how
many nights will this body
put
up with the cough
and
the strain as a serial poet
writing
thinker or thinking writer
someone
with a lot on the mind
nothing
concluded
as
if he is still twenty-one
in
my mind pass me
the
bottle and don't mind the smoke
can
always count my friends
on
one hand
leaving
the other one
free
to do this
nothing
concluded
even
if it ends someday
how
many
right
about now
nothing
that predictable
will
do there must be
something
left to say
someday
it could be
considered
epic for now
and
until the death
just
my serial
nothing
concluded...
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