fear of freedom

November 22, 2012 § Leave a comment

fear of freedom

it’s not as though my
weeks have an end,
as most people’s do
so, with that in mind,
you will have to forgive
me if I lack the energy
for dragging
my weary carcass
up some hill just to
sit in awe of some sunset
because, I mean,
what with its unmatched
beauty and its
stunning song
of pastel colors
reminding me
that I never take the time
to notice things
like that,
I’m liable to get all
wacky with guilt,
quit my job
and wander the land,
a happy ascetic
free from anything
that carries the label
of stability
trying to ignore
the sharp small teeth
of responsibility
cutting into the
flesh of my ankles –
my days spent
observing the plant life
alongside highways
counting the number of
starlings in a migrating
cloud
controlling the rates at
which my heart beats
and my lungs fill and deflate
the whole time
formulating
answers for friends
and family
in a language that they
would understand,
to the inevitable
questions
that would surely arise

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You are currently reading fear of freedom at Fred Whitehead's Blog.

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