They recline among the cobwebs,
Vacation in the rust,
Sit high atop the garbage heaps,
And smell of moldy crust.
They dance 'round creaky door frames
And hide in old accounts.
They rollick through my waking hours,
Riding dust bunny mounts.
They gorge themselves on best-laid plans,
Feasting 'til they burst.
These undone things are stalking me:
I’d better get them first!
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