because someday the end does come

poetry

high on achievement
and digging a hole
knowing the bottom cannot
be as warm and soothing
as your arms but somehow
hoping to dig through
to a nice patch of sod
on which i’ll lay and wait
for the sun to shine perfectly
down straight from above
to warm me as i develop
hives from the otherwise
pristine landscape
in the six square foot
wide hole i’ve dug in the
time we’ve spent together
while i was trying to make
a name for myself
or some moron named roger

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