Long night drives with a can of golden liquid bitter bluntness are two ultimates that ease the shaky hands and ghosted thoughts

You left me heaving through punctured lungs and broke every rib along the way and I picked up my scattered bones and apologized for the mess

How many more cups of tea until I become harbour?

My regulars

..

A cup of hotly brewed tea
with a menthol roll
sitting on an ash tray
beside my widely opened book
of a guilty pleasure promise

Day dreaming of a cold weather
with pine trees covered in white softness
and a
waft of cinnamon
mixed with baked floured ginger

You wonder
why I wiggle
so much
why my legs
bounce,
and my hands
twitch.
Truth is,
my mind
can't slow down
It doesn't know
how to take a day off,
its far too good
at tormenting me
more and more
with each
passing second.

-JRM

late last evening
dust pink hues decorated
the vast Northern skies