Paragraph to paragraph
Reading away from myself.
Drifting from what is needed
Swallowed into a useless realm.
"Mind, get me through the day, will you?
I promise to entertain your earthly bliss."
Yet the more I resist,
A thought surfaces—
How foolish of me
To not think time a luxury!
So, I pick up my pen,
Bury my nose into the depths of the books
Find my little dream resting on its pages—
Waiting to be read, to be true.

I took all the love I gave to you
And used it for myself

You're too much
I can't take it
Wait that's me
Never mind


© MJL 2021

i keep buying fictional drinks,

to fix my dysfunctional brain,

without a single soul to help,

but i know too well, the bitter hell,

of caring about other opinions,

than the ones i can place on myself.

we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections

i can see our future
quite vividly

it's lovely,
let me tell you

i've never been able to do this before