I’m making this rhyme
to fight what I squander.
Taking this time
to write and to ponder.
Grasping suggestions
condoned by the lawless.
Asking these questions
alone in my solace.
Alone in our room
we fill now with others.
Cologne from my groom
distilled from our summers.
History haunts me
for task is a demon.
Mystery wants me
to bask in my freedom.
But I make it hard
although it’s quite easy.
For I am the the starved
and I could fight greedy.
Could drown in the drink
and choke on the meaning.
Backdown what I think;
provoke quarantining.
Could flail to shake crimes
twitch slake my incense.
Could fail to make rhymes
which make any sense.
Could fail in bestowment
to get what I need.
So I’ll take this moment
to see I succeed.
Written by Jason Wright
August 4, 2019