emotions and hamsters

i am guilty.
say one thing but mean another
only to discover i'm at the end of the line
and i have to jump.

there's no other choice, you see?
there's no correcting this story,
it's written in permanence and white out's for the scaried cats anyway.
we all land on our feet
unless we land on our face first,
regardless, we touch down eventually
or do we?

i am guilty
of jerking my head back and forth
looking for a sign i can read
but all the ads look so convincing
i pace, run a small, circular track into the ground.

i told you i felt like a hamster
delusional and tired
running on a wheel
and setting a virtual reality upon my retina
but there's only the wheel
and sometimes my little hamster heart
hasn't the will to turn it.

i imagine this little hamster self lounging in some newspaper
a tiny glass of cabernet held to it's lips
"futile!" it squeaks,
"a rat race all of it and i don't fit!"
i don't fit.
my whining hamster self throws back the last of the glass
and stumbles into a heavy sleep in the corner.

what a fitful little dream i've had. the message is hastily delivered, clear, but not crystal. i could explain away the lack of brilliance as an illustration or case in point of my not so brilliant or organized mind. but, i'll refrain. let this piece sink, knowing that if nothing else i unloaded something, heavy stones that race to the bottom.