The night slips 
deeply into sleep 
darkness a veil
gauzy and thin
hides the lights 
making them blur
it might be 
my own sleep 
shadows of dreams 
difficult to shake 
a heaviness lumbers
and drags itself 
to the kitchen 
starting the kettle 
and then coffee 
which will snap 
like nights shade

Lies and 
broken promises 
seem to 
be the 
dishes of
the day 
where once 
they were 
seldomly seen 
daily specials
have it
seems been 
added to 
the menu 
available anytime 
never ordered 
frequently served 

Well it doesn’t 
really matter really 
wherever I am 
it’s a room
it’s always been 
just a room 
where I find 
myself whenever I 
do find myself 
it’s never grand
or ever vast
very often small 
for like the 
hands of the 
Creator giving away
my soul to 
the world so 
goes these words
quietly to you

People are cruel 
they play games 
but not like 
children often do 
childhood games are
plump with innocence 
and of adventure 
they take along 
never leave behind 
ever anything really 
especially their toys
stop blaming innocents 
for your inability 
to be adults 

It seems I
spend more time 
in the corner 
not of room
but of ring
gathering myself together 
taking some time 
to reassess things 
listening to advice 
from my coaches 
not so much 
as to survive 
but to win
the next round 
for rounds are
how one wins 
the whole shebang
be it life
be it love 
be it boxing