By February 17, 2012 6 Comments Read More →

Insanity

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It’s gone… rooting and digging through the dust encrusted piles of pressed paper, like a shaking addict’s fingers through his own vomit, hoping to find one last undigested pill.

It’s lost… pretty, flowing words. A last living connection with dead memories, buried in the collapse of time.

It’s over… searching where there is no finding, again and again, repeating the insanity of what does not change.

t’s complete… unacceptable acceptance at the loss… of words, of control, of hope. Yesterday is gone. Today is over. Tomorrow never promised.

 

So I write.

 

 

Copyright © 2012 Bill Friday

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Blogger, screenwriter, bloody awful poet. A writer of too many beginnings, and not enough endings. View My Profile

  • Ah I recall this one! Such a great poem and still as intense as ever 🙂

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  • I remember this poem as well! It’s also interesting how this is no longer true: “It’s lost…pretty, flowing words.”

    All you write nowadays are pretty, flowing words.

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    • Pretty flowing words!!!

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  • Such intensity in so few words. Only you, Bill. Only you.

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  • Anya Pham

    Oh! I like this a lot!

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  • Anya Pham

    I also wanted to say that I’m glad you do write. 🙂 🙂 🙂

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