The endeavor not to notice
Is cramped and ironic and hopeless,
and you cramp me further.
You will be noticed.
You taste unaware bliss
Or know exactly what you're doing.
Moderation is innocuous
and sin falls in the extreme.
I am old enough to know resistence,
Not to apply the five senses to your breath,
But perhaps giving in takes more strength,
To risk, and not to taste the coward's death.
No comments:
Post a Comment