We're all entitled a past we don't care to mention.

Came into work today mildly angry and not willingly to be a source of inspiration.
The students meandered to pencils and notebooks,
and it took some reminding but the work began to appear.
I thought.."It's starting again."
My lack of interest in what I do,
despite a product I should be proud of.

Like a long, circular Wilco song,
strummed and lite voice of death and life.
Somedays I got it all in front of me,
others days I stare...
and want to go back to the past.