Thursday, December 11, 2014

a poem by gary pelow

six inches high, cumbersome, ice, slipping and falling in upstate, figuratively, plus literally, isolated,snowed in, by snow and icy emotions, landlord says almost nothing, to me, yet i live here, struggling with intrusive thoughts, held prisoner by rumination, obsessive, not calm, not serene, not even from the mayahana, meditation for the joy of all sentient beings hopefully has begun, time passes slow in the purgatory of ice, i try to stay steady, i try to stay alert and active, yet december causes sleepiness, as if it was ambien, or sonata,the drugs of sleep, paranoia eats really deep today, why has that car stopped, why do its occupants stare at me, or is it from the awakened dreams o psychosis jumping to conclusions, it is not clear enough to know which, i am full of rage, guilt and shame, locked into the emotional bondage of banality, almost  every day know i go forward while shaking, people accuse me drugs, causing tremors, but no not that, but the cold and fear cause it.

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