Wilful
disobedience has not
Paid
off well
And yet
this uncontrollable urge
To grab
the wheel and
Peel
off of the smooth tarmac
Across
and down into the margins
Endures
Dress
it up as you like
Recalcitrance
The
maniacal nature
Of the
principled man
But the
truth comes up
You gag
on it
And
they see it
Clear
as spit on your chin
But now
Still
I grind
away at it
As it
in turn grinds me down
The
uphill walk to normality
To
concession and compromise
Every
day
Tomorrow
Yesterday
Today
Is a
string of pearls
Waiting
to be snapped.