Moving On From Standing Still

Free Verse ReVolution

Hunger struck
me ’round noon,
interrupted
the process
of making room for
change,

lest the
scent of home-
made food for
thought
disturb my dozing-

I’m not asleep,
but thumbing

pages of exhaustion,
wondering how
the final
chapter reads;

elliptical
Rapture for prayers
and their
pastors,

a tectonic shift that
leaves
mile-long rifts in
tea leaf
prophecies.

Diocese of my
downfall, destiny is just
a crumpled paper ball on my
desk,
proposing
unrest but no one suffered
more sleep lost
than me.

Fate is just
a fairy tale, fail safe that
ended with
my birth and haunted
every hearse thereafter.

It’s
a dead whale on my
beachfront,
next to the
carcasses of
love,
faith and one
night stands.

And like a ship that
hasn’t seen land
in months,

I can’t
assume one single
island in
the distance
is real.

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