Until Next Time
It comes
allatonce
Or none
a t a l l
there is no in between
and nothing we can do
feast or famine.
Personally, I prefer a feast,
that is, until I have gorged,
reached such gluttony
that I feel sick — to my stomach and of the sight
of the plate or, in this case,
the words
that I have eaten or writ or swallowed (like my pride).
NO MORE,
I would scream if it weren’t so damned impolite
Instead, I push away
the plate or the screen.
I excuse myself from the venue
and swear off the glut.
Until next time.
Next time, when I cannot control myself,
or is it that I will not?
Perhaps I’d rather regret indulgence
than experience nothing at all.
Posted by Cole |
Comments (0)