deepundergroundpoetry.com
Eraser
I write my days
in pencil, on paper
because I know
they’ll never last
~ ask me again
tomorrow, or Monday
after the weekend
hides behind the workday
and taunts me
with mock freedom
~ ask me again
at five-fifteen on Friday,
after the work week
hides behind my spine
and settles beneath
my tired eyes;
fair warning, ahead,
my brain spins circles
around functional ideas,
dizzying itself
between the thens and nows
perhaps my madness
waffles between the two
because I write
it all down
with an eraser in mind
in pencil, on paper
because I know
they’ll never last
~ ask me again
tomorrow, or Monday
after the weekend
hides behind the workday
and taunts me
with mock freedom
~ ask me again
at five-fifteen on Friday,
after the work week
hides behind my spine
and settles beneath
my tired eyes;
fair warning, ahead,
my brain spins circles
around functional ideas,
dizzying itself
between the thens and nows
perhaps my madness
waffles between the two
because I write
it all down
with an eraser in mind
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