(#44) Desperation

Solemn chambers of
Procrastination, over-confidence
Seeping from every pore on your skin
The sands of time tip the scales of possibility.

This cannot breed-
The virus, when unchecked gradually
Leads the host to retardation, and
When goals close in, the soul

Remains unprepared,
Panic overtakes the mind, a brooding
Concoction of frustration, stress and confusion.
That demon will make you drink it.

The days past were let slip,
The jail guard with no vigilance nor
Discipline, the hours escaped free
From the bars of relaxed fingers and the body.

No more, no more will the rain clouds
Drench my clothes further-
They are already soaked through, regretful.
I can pray for the lightning to strike me hard

To teach me a lesson,
I could run hard for the week ahead
And catch the falling pieces of hope
To render some form of salvation for myself.