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"Back to the grind" after the parade, in three parts

By FIFEPublished about a year ago 1 min read
Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

Chores I

We taught you well

so pleased in


I hanged so bitterly it

pained my express

Fancy fragrant from the knocks

dripping mud on the doors

I answered angry, I

tended grudgingly to my chores

The sickly green curtains strain to

cover sweetened blisters

Yeah, I'm bummed in my inept

bleeding on my silly blissful sisters

Chores II

The routine distills

and boils dry until

it sparks and

burns the house

These patterns

can’t be rebuilt

Uncertainty is fed, the map



In the unknown jaw, teeth


we can see if the cogs

can align

This spark is a bright

omen signaling

instability in

the glorious design

Chores III

I am stirring the search



The daydream, a parallel

reality and

I am master of reality’s illusions

Why am I here?

though – THANK GOD

I am

The film spirals

lights are a shadowy


Nothing is blamed

pleasure hits directly and

I am persuaded

Simultaneous screens



My private world is invaded

surreal poetry

About the Creator


The written word is everything. I love to read, and I love to write - primarily fiction and poetry, but I'm also psyched to learn about pretty much any topic and to share my expertise in music and music business.

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