Sentencing the Poet

I hadn’t meant to–

Perhaps it’d been divine intervention.

Either way, not at all the intention.

You know?  I think you do.

What’s more, you believe it’s true.

These accidents have a way

Like a visitor never leaving,

Like a seamstress deftly weaving

Mistakes throughout our being.

With remorse being minimal

Comes the treatment of a criminal.

A pounding of a gavel

With a sentencing—"Unravel."

So across the floor

’round the pillars to the door,

Never stops, just more and more,

Multi-colored thread,

All greed and brown and red and white,

The proof of wrongs

I’ve learned to love and write

And with careful practice might

Immortalize in songs that long

For lungs to let them fly

And in the night proudly die.

haha five minutes.  i might as well have been freestyling.

Still stuck at home, inactive thanks to my back and foot.  Invited to play tennis, soccer, and basketball–all politely refused for lying around.  This sucks. 

*Left for a friend’s party.  Hobbled through his door.  Was warmly welcomed by him.  All of his baseball playing friends, though, were decidedly less warm.  After realizing this wasn’t going to change no matter how friendly or funny I happened to be, I said fuck it and left.  And that’s that.