Enero, 9

Never, not once, not one single time
did the monster in the recesses,
deep in my mind, rise up to protest
the unconscionable pistoning
of my fidgety fists, while I was
pummeling the sad blubbering bloke
below me, not much as a whisper.
Just the deep calm, the extending hum,
of a serenely centered Buddhist.

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A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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