3am novel looms,
7am laundry room,
Move, move, move.

Word fascination;
Dust concentration.

Amazed at the way
the sun filters through
the dog’s fur.

Nicotine and caffeine:
Don’t need; on which I feed.

Thoughts disconnected;
in random sequence.
but writing

Tying Shoelaces

Pulling the two ends tight,
knowing this can make the difference
between your shoe staying on
or falling off, scares the crap out of me.

Next comes the crossover and then under, making my eye twitch
and my head spin.

Then the loop…oh, not the loop!
My breaths go shallow,
my heart races, and I get queasy
at the sight of the loop.

Wrap the loose string around,
and I’m in full blown panic mode.
Slip it through creating a second loop;
pull both ends tight, and

I am left in the corner,
curled up into a fetal position,
wondering where I am and
what happened to my shoes.

The Dungeon

The loneliness is like
dragon’s breath on
my inner thigh.

I must claw my way up
and out of this deep well;
punching fingers into dirt walls;

Creating hand-holds and
peeling back nails,
as I climb towards the light.

Depressed One

Pluck my lashes one by one.
Peel the skin from my lids,
and I will feel less pain than
this despairing pit of depression.

I trudge each day, up hill,
of course,
through a slow flow
of molasses.

Apathy is my shadow.

Migraines and muscle aches
jackhammer me.

My bed: my refuge.


Cover my eyes with velvet glasses
so I can’t see what’s become of me.

Tear my limbs from their sockets
so I can’t feel my loneliness.

Strip me naked in a long corridor
so ghosts may pass through my soul.

Tie red ribbons in my hair
to make me pretty again.