I write and write; my rest is wrecked
Can’t stop thinking ‘bout how I’m blessed
Singing soliloquys of sadness;
Save some sleep; Gods I’m so stressed
Hard-pressed to pursue projects in progress,
Even if ideas disappear and I disconnect; just deal with the dread…
Bruises blossom past my fingers
Taut and tired, yet I still linger
The bees of burden; they say ‘Go sting her!’
Another night of sleepless whimpers
No sprints, just marathons
Stringing us along, on and on
On an endless chase for gooses gone
Tests are taken and tapestries torn
My best is breaking and my will is worn
The sword is drawn, my face forlorn
But the sword is rusting
For vacation, my heart is lusting
I promise my future that the first thing
She’ll get after this starving and thirsting
Is the thing for which her heart’s been bursting
No backlogs of work, no more hurting
And I’ll believe myself, a fool for trusting