Sunday, June 16, 2013

2.774 : 6/16/07 : The Fortnight

After a fortnight
seems nothing had changed
the cravings still rampant
the soul still estranged
I begged for an omen
a signal, a sign
I waited and waited
and scuffed at the line
after a fortnight
I knew in my heart
that I wouldn’t find
a superior start
but I chafed at restriction
I squirmed and I whined
at this cold and revengeful
dish on which I dined
one seven passed
in retreat and withdrawal
another just passed
slouched inert in the hall
and with one third seven
I’ll nail it in hard
there’s no word for it
Just a turn of the card
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