I don’t like this sit.
It sits in strange ways.
Left cheek tingles, right cheeks numb
foots gone drowsy, other ones fast asleep
The stand brings a stumble, a drunken lurch
My feet rouse quickly, but not my ***.

They're gathering
Theses shadowed dwellers
from places that hurt the eye, to peer into

They twist and writhe in my throat,
stabbing their sharpness into my brain
merciless, unfeeling.

What banishes such indomitable spirits?
sleep? postpones their march

It’s not Settled
It’s not there
The heart isn’t a willing disciple.
Judas turning his head
Every which way but that way
comforting love is a strange Companion
Is it real if it isn’t painful?
Or wrong?
Probably. But I can’t see.
my prescription Expired last year
so who knows.

Those moments in life
That staccato heart beat
An anxious mind and the release of sleep
The tightness of a chest bound by woe
Picks up the phone one last time

It's a little quiet
One day it'll be an all grown up big quiet
But for now, it sneaks around in the brushes
Avoiding predators and spreading anxiety.
The birds hush as it passes,
The wind stops bothering the leaves,
The cats lie flat against the ground
and the dogs bare their teeth at empty spaces.
Then at the behest of some mysterious conductor
The world burst forth into life with renewed vigour,
The little quiet passes and successfully survives the day
Tomorrow It'll be a little bigger until

The questions don’t stop.
The incessant babbling of a panicked boss
The bone churning boredom of paint drying with the sympathetic tears that accompany a slowly dying animal.
I need a drink, rather several, rather all!
Maybe, for bonus points, we can throw in a crippling drug addiction that could, maybe, allow for a grasp on the slick walls of the pit. But we both know it won’t.

I need to escape, to get away from this horrid existence. But I don’t dare. Yellow bellied sluggard.
Thank god for cowardice, or I’d be the main course at the feast of the maggot king.

An empire, built on Extreme empathy.
Welcomes in the parasite of its own demise
Feeds the anarchy with the cornerstones of its ethics.
Tears down it’s moral walls so as not to offend it’s destruction
Lies with blank smiling eyes, eviscerated in the street.
Good thing, good thing we were so woke.