War is waged
With soldiers
But mostly money.
Isn't that
What old men
With both
Say?

I fight the World War of my life,
And yet,
And Yet.
I see neither approach 
On the horizon 
And I wonder
How long
I'll keep looking.

Your promises mean nothing,
Because that
Is what I've got
To show for them.

I implore,
Don't get my hopes up
Again this time.
Say "no" if you want.
Accord...

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Ask for help,
They say
With quiet judgmental rebuke
So I ask
And then I plead
And deafness
Greets his friend
Stagnation.

Today
Means tomorrow.
Tomorrow,
Next week.
I have yet to see
What
"Within the year"
Means,
And it's been Two.

Each letter,
A careful trapeze,
Am I too sick?
Not sick enough?
The war waged on 
In my body.
They promised me
Soldiers
"Within the year."

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