Duty is a dynamic affair.
Often it is a hurricane, storming in unannounced
And breaking
Your habitual customs. Causing terror to your previously calm
Demeanor. Flying in abandoned tasks
Longing for completion, and
Trivial ordeals
Nagging for deletion.
It reminds you in its booming tone
What should have already been done, long ago.
It’s breeze carries guilt and distress, forcing
A haze of sickness upon your chest.

Duty is a dynamic affair.
Showing itself, on the occasion, through
A mere stomach ache.
A constant weight on your body, a perpetual reminder
Of what must be done.
What others demand from you.
What you demand from yourself. It will
Cry and cry into
Your fragile ladened
Insides.
Overbearing all other burdens, tearing
Away at your exhausted heavy eyes.
Bursting your gut, convincing you to bleed out
In rivers of remorse. Wishing
You paid attention sooner
To the looming business
You were too eager
To neglect.

Duty is a dynamic affair.
Waiting patiently like a
Biting snake. Hidden in the
Long tasks tangled, and grasped
Around your tilted feet.
It camouflages in shades of doubt, becoming
More and more invisible to your
Lazy fleeting sight.
It will strike when your
Mind is practicing indecision and your tongue,
Poor diction. Piercing
Your relaxed skin, numbing the rush
Of the draining venom injected
Into your blood flow. It will sit
There until you are entirely drenched
In the stench of duty satisfied.