The Warrior-Poet

[silhouetteofyou]

This has been the worst year of my life.
Or, at least, the most unsuccessful by conventional accounts.

And I'm approaching it all now
like a Ranger left stranded in the thick jungles of enemy territory.

My eyes don't shine these days.
They're blood-shot.
I'm not a romantic anymore.
I'm a wolf.

My politics have taken a turn for the nasty and uncompromising.

And I don't know if I'm to find the cure for this
comically predictable angst
in a bottle of beer or a warm embrace
or what.

I don't know.

But in the meantime,
I'm sharpening my poems
and I'm stabbing blindly,
stabbing until I hear something rip
or until someone lets me out of this fucking cage.