the rosebush

disapointment
such familiar territory
the lovely trees
and the wonderful vines
have changed to dangerous
rosebushes
but the soil still remains the same
my goals and ambitions
have been smothered
by my dirty need to escape
this new year
has about four months forgotten
and i couldn't tell you
the difference
between one week and the next
i barely wake up each day
because i can never fall asleep
swimming barely in a gooey river
wearing self doubt and anger
like the latest trends
my passion has gone dry
but i still vaguely remember
craving something once and then
achieving something
maybe because i was once
foolish enough
to believe in something