March Twenty-Sixth Two Thousand And Nine
Its been a long journey to no-w-here.
an uphill climb of steep proportions
in padded comfortable shoes.
in blinders painted with lovely scenes
on drugs that turn the corns of your lips
that give a little sway to your hips
Its been a long walk around the block
to return to an all too familiar patch
an unforgiving swollen head
in a vacuos form resembling home
on laurels built from blood
that give n sway a little in the breeze
