these holes pervade
the results
I feel
I am without

and when the work demands
I am there but not
and when the page fails
I am unmoved
but I move

yet for one more
I am seeking
for a one means to an end
one close for closure
one touch of eternal bliss

but these wants are ripe
substitution for needs
that protein for the soul
a real return
for my labor of love

summation eludes me still
though I know not to push
where death comes invited
but I push
I must


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