Thursday, March 28, 2013

Harvesting Haibuns #5


                       We stare at the clock, always meaning to do well but hardly ever succeeding.
                       At least, one of us means well. The other tears and scratches, lulls and 
                       entices, angers and annoys until the other can do nothing else but finally 
                       submit to the energy. Just one more…wait, I didn’t see this…what time is it?

Demons or the Devil
My thoughts are rarely my own
A constant excuse

The Stranger

                       Being strange to myself and yet being comfortable to others seems to be my
                       destiny and my desire. Is it just for health, or is something more sinister
                       lurking behind my wishes? It’s an intricate cobweb of self-doubt and lies
                       that I’d have to traverse to find the heart, and I think I’ll find other things
                       to do.

An outcast
Unwelcome in two homes
Embraced by the world


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