Hunger

The Long Years, Part II

The long years
Only (grow,
Only ever longer.)
Never quick, enjoyable,
Never to inspire, expire,
tire or tread lightly.
Fighting with rightly or
wrongly-earned breath,
longly growing, stone-
softened, flowing,
immutable, waiting
wait waiting for you to
stop generating bodies of
work and bodies of
action and active passion
enacted on bodies
They wait
wait in the darkness,
heavy-hanging, filled with
negative life-force affirma-
tions,
heavy-hanging, hearing
negotiations and
pleas for, “just a little
more time, please.”

The long years are not
incoming, impeding, impending
stampeding or receding.

It’s you who are leaning
speeding careening towards
the gaping rotten mouth
of inactivity and non-
generation.  With every
word that you write and
every thought that you type
every line drawn the
long years wait.  And
there is no escape.

You get it?  You eat what
you create and every bite
that you make takes you
a day closer to the
long years of having been
somebody, of having
written something.
The long years.

Oscuridad.

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This entry was published on December 28, 2012 at 16:19 and is filed under Poetry, The Long Years. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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