My cup, it runneth over:
My life is full,
A cereal bowl
I carry, ‘crost the carpet.
My cup, it runneth over:
I add and take
And pile, and make
A thousand mounds of owning.
My cup, it runneth over:
The corners creep,
The order seeps,
Until I’m suffocated.
My cup, it runneth over:
My flesh, it stretches
Miles, o’er wretched
Writhing microbiomes.
My cup, it runneth over:
So, too, my heart
And mind infarct,
Necrotic from indulgence,
Till I obstruct,
Hand over top,
And stop
This mad decanting.
Copyright 2018 Andrea LeDew
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