thou shalt not live by bread alone

the restlessness
got my goat
the wanderlust
gripped me
and rattled me

it caught me
unawares
as i drank my
morning coffee
and jostled
my brain
for some elbow space

it caught my
arm
and took a reluctant me
on a guided tour
(like the famous
spirits of
christmas past)

through the
alleyways
of my lacklustre
existence
and kept exhaling
a rotten breath
of sheer despair

as I hung my
Scrooge's head
in shame
and misery

I wasn't a prodigal
son
neither was I
the fattened
calf to be
slaughtered
 at the altar

the sorriest part
was my inability
to be
slotted
or be butchered
purposefully
either