May 2, 2012
A poem from a bored Jeff Walker
an apparent enabler
always the last to know
a critic who ponders
paranoid with the ill fated talent for insight
a must to survive the trials
combating confrontational conflicts
as i wake
clean my teeth, brush malevolent hair flat
I see an older man
seeking birthday treats
whose thoughts wanders
breathing slowly, stopping time
I hold my breath
red faced
I head for the door
with images of biscuits
and silence
If i were a better person
I would have stayed in bed
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