Mark R Slaughter (1957)
My Happy New Year
Fell into a new year.
Heavy hung elusive cheer
Atop a pool of stagnant hope;
A grubby smear upon the faint horizon.
I puzzled in a maze of cancer-blessing fags,
Took to weed; drawing drags, I felt
The desperation surge within.
Search for peace wore ever thin.
If I were freed from self-perpetuation
Of negation – deep depression –
I’d clamber for a life that had a meaning.
It isn’t working.
I think I’ll stick with dreaming
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
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