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August, 2003

Where is the magic
The togetherness
The fun?
All I do is work
Sleep
Eat poorly
And sit in my little
Cell of hell
Waiting for that chance
At that grown-up life
I was promised
That I put off everything for
It's all a lie, a scam
And I can never regain
What I put off
Lost
To time, youth
Energy
And now I chew
Antacids like candy
And try to stay afloat in
The American Dream
That plays out in my
Cell in hell
No magic to
Correct my mistakes
My error in judgment
Believing
All that crap
It was all a line to
Keep me behind the line
Not even toe-ing the line
Just parked on my ass a
Safe distance back
And waited for a future
That could never come
Because it wasn't real
It was that lie to get me
Into that
Cell in hell
In the first place.
No shish-kabobs
Allowed
No sharp objects or guns
Keep the occupant
Alive at all costs
You see, you must
Die of old age
First
Die a death
Like you never
Escaped
Because you didn't
You just had this
Illusion
Free spirit
But now you
Pace the walls
In your Easy Spirit shoes
And hope
The pitcher of
Margaritas arrives on schedule.




© 2003 by the respective poets