Sonnet 75

I have no hope in life; I am complete
The last thing I remember was the climb
The fall has been a twenty-year defeat
As slow as twenty years of marking time
I’m still intact, and isn’t that complete?
At rest if not at peace (aren’t they the same?)
Each night I stare profoundly at my feet
And try to give myself another name
The god of useless power hears my prayer
And turns my words into a heap of shit
Then turns complacency into despair
Completely for the joy of doing it
And all I want to do is go to sleep
To search my dreams for something real to keep

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