Monday, December 15, 2014

a poem by gary pelow

today i sleep, no journey today to the shrink, to tired to move or motivate, depression of december is here, this will pass, but slowly, michael and michelle, the prison wardens, treat the inmate as weak and slow because of the cold of snow, the inmate has no immediate place to, to live or socialize, they have the inmate over a barrel, tied to the fear of homelessness, the inmate is  quiet, do not agitate neither against the hand that feeds you nor the warden landlord, i must arise every morning to these two wardens, walking on quiet egg shells to not anger the land lords, bending backwards to kiss ass is more pleasant the dying in the cold, under a bridge, so there it is, temper of the past has led to no shelter money or food, the new phobia and paranoia is to avoid that with the price of pride destroyed,, yet, all is temporary, all will pass by, i once had six years of stable paradise,, no anger or temper to be shown, or i could be shown the door to cold streets

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