recovered from my winning spree

heeled back to the ridge of brimming scree

tracing trepid steps, bracing dreaded depths

I forgot how long it's been

since I had wanted to start again

since I had wanted it all to end

since I couldn't remember when

it was a need-to-know: just how landslips flow

when the weight is over

now it's all aboard the always bored

the man of the hour's one of twenty-four

enough to occupy, until the next time

but there is comfort in the coach

that keeps you right on track

that keeps you trained to task

that holds you to the fact

it was a need-to-know: just how gaskets blow

when the weight is over

and like a city beat boombox

and like a city street buttagots

a rumpus is harmony to some

today, holly bloomed in city square

as the suits volleyed gloomy, pity stares

on a writer's block, words get chopped

to form a death sentence, I breathe

as if all I needed was inspiration

as if all I had was not expiration

but if I've ever learned one lesson

it was a need-to-know: just how branches bow

when the weight is over