and again

for the millionth time, hesitating
never getting it right, almost perfect
convincing yourself deliberately, and again
for the missed moments, pondering by and by
shaking the fists at inadequate memories
and spending time on the surroundings
temporarily occupying the senses
with the insanity of a different source
wander on, you do, through these woods
breathing, thinking, judging, calculating,
and pretending to seek the answer

curiosity

unable to satisfy
to tempt away from this desire
to know, to be freed,
simple denial of any consequence

charging ahead like a mad bull
into the crowd of bloody fury

in muddy thoughts
the home awakens
to the merriment of the guest