As I reach the bottom
of a yet another cup of yesterday's coffee,
I begin to quiver
like a drawn arrow.
All atwitter with thought,
overclocked,
firing on all cylinders,
I set about
laying out
some eloquent dissertation on my blunted affect
or crippling self doubt
or other such complaints.
Some sympathetic story
sans self-esteem
seems to be my wheelhouse.
What if I flipped the lid and said
that I feel okay about myself?
That I'm not the worst,
and people would care if I was gone.
That I've gained
more than I've lost,
despite losing
a lot.
That I can be resilient
even if I don't realize it right away.
Would I be ill-received?
Hot
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I found a little peace somewhere between free and incarcerated I found a little peace somewhere slathered in paint and wanderlust... -
The white panther pads Alight against the grey of winter Stalking through the cemetery Walking there alongside me The white panth... -
Flat, Like a joyless ode. No ups or downs, No peaks and valleys, Just the outstretched blank expanse of human emptiness Onto wh... -
Doing time in a cushioned cell. Pillow bars and blanket shackles bind me to this time and place. Escape is possible, but the insurmounta...
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It’s been a week since I gave up smoking, more or less. The occasional bummed smoke snuck through. One while drinking. One while ...
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Day breaks open over the halls of men. The yolk slowly sags its way down, coating everything the light touches in a thin sheen ... -
On this, the day of your birth, there’s ample reason for cheer and mirth. Twenty-one years passed, badaboom, since you were expell...
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