Earlier, much that I did was spontaneous and wanton.
That I have forgotten now. How?
Burning under the rays of customary ways, yes.
Conforming and dying a little, I woke up today
to realize, how a tray full of
what to say, what to do
what to feel, too,
was in my lap. Sucking me into a trap.
I wanted to break out. Yes, I want to.
I want to turn away the tray, ready to pay,
for the joy,
of instinctual living and creative craving,
that’s been lost, post
the tens.
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