early morning crisis

oscillating
between moments
of serene fancy
and fanciful sinking
into the sloughing swamps
of sorrow

torn apart
in the midst
of creative inspiration
and
existential devastation
to drown slowly

damn the rivers
the torpedos
the ever melting ice shelf
he sits at the beach
hoping the oceans rise
to sweep him away

3 thoughts on “early morning crisis

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