Sitting cobwebbed in 2013s dairy,
my resolutions mock me.
I see them, smirking, daring me, coaxing,
wishing i’d make another eager attempt at self deceit…
self deceit is a brand of death.
Auras of clean slates or freshness elude me,
Still, my heart leaps for the unknown…
peace is paramount, happiness is violently impending…
I stay open to closing in on all I need for the next 365….
this is not poetry,
just ramblings and old wars….