racing into the depths of isolation
to face the kid watering down his father's gin
without fear, or frustration, just to be seen
in the presence of pure contentment

but every key stroke, every coffee
every word ripped from the page
on a puddle that brings out poseidon's rage
only takes away the smile worth holding

boldly marching on with patton
to save the heroes trapped by their own fire
there comes an hour when i'm nothing but tired
and another day has passed like a kidney stone