The Habit

Morning’s here and
I’m ashamed:

I don’t want to work.
Don’t want to get up and 
work as I always do. But

work is all I am,
so it would seem that
this morning
I don’t want to be
who I am.

That sounds
so much better.

I want a holiday from my tired name
and my unease, my contentment
at being so settled into routine,
my workout clothes, my uniforms
and rituals. So I guess it’s not that

I don’t want to work.
Will work for chaos.
Will work if it breaks me
of the habit, if it stops me
saying “my” and “mine”
about what gets done
for others
through these hands.


About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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