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Half Full Circles

Raping paper and wasting ink
Attempting to bag the bubbles
 
 I think,
 
   Or thunk—but I stunk
     or I think—that I stink—
 
Like the ship this drunken captain will sink.
 
As I crack the bow with
 my eyes as I blink.
 
Will I not be one with the Zen in this pen
 before this cartridge is empty again?
 
For I’m out and about
 and the words in my mouth
   keep tumbling out
     like bumbling clowns—
Spinning unsound and dancing around
 till all of the clowns fall
   down on the ground,
Which resembles the paper
 that I’ll sign like a waiver
   when I try to be clever
     and write it down later—
 
Wasting more ink and raping more paper.
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