So full of ill will
And aversion,
But I feel
I’m repeating myself here,
Rolling over and over
Like an alligator
Grasping and throttling
Its prey,
Or thrashing about
Like a bull
Caught in the
Gator’s grip,
Irrevocably locked together
In a desperate struggle
To eat or
To avoid being eaten;
And so, I too
Pursue the water wheel around,
Up and down,
Foaming up the waters,
I can’t seem to stop,
But keep coming back
To this,
Over and over again;
What restlessness
Is driving me
So insistently, persistently
And to what end?
Where will it take me?
Or, is it to be merely
An incessant repetition,
For as long as
This being is?
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