Saturday, October 13, 2007

Sonnet #27

"Me Alone a Barnacle"

Content to lap at pools of drunkards, I
Haphazardly contort to younger days
When half full empty glasses knew the ways:
Temptation waiting in their alibi.

Now riding on the backs of woman thighs,
I bear the weight eternal of the thought
That sans these burdens we are better off,
Though much more bored and prone to compromise,

Unless the inner angel caves and lies
With inner demon, ready to devour
Itself and taste its taste buds, pink and sour,
And thusly break the Spirit's trusty ties.

And me, alone, a barnacle impressed
Upon by healthy notions of success.

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