Mindless evacuation #37

I.

I am hopeless sick of these same.
I am fed up weary of these same.
I am tired, invariable, unalterable.
unchanged unchanging
unbroken unbreaking
These same all same pedestrian
These same all same unrelenting
all these same words carved in stone
all these same words set in a kiln
stacked to the brim amongst the bricks
one cup over another
runneth over and over
the waxed foot of the clay
where you scratched your name
stoked by a passionless blaze
fired by thousand degree flames

II.

Still, none of these mine.
Not that phrase.
Not this stop.
Pages and pages refusing,
Standing in a spelling bee-line,
sweating and stuttering
then ask for it in a sentence stalling
to spell out the shallowness of life upheaving
to covet the misfortune of others dejecting.
The trite, the corny, the blue-veined cheese
Yank it out of me. Pull.
Grab it before time runs out.
the words the phrases
the sentiments the sentinel
before the plains
before the plains entrapping.