today, I have a biting case of gray-
a need, for what I don't know.
like there are pine needles, under my skin, digging their way in,
splinters through my rib cage, tickling the strings that attach me to my heart.

I have been checking my pockets for days now, found only worry stones,
shined and polished by my thumb.
For days now, I have had dusty fingerprints, for days now, I have felt this way.
for days I have carried warm cloth, the unborn child of my spirit,
fresh from the machines.
Buried my face in them- in order to find solace,
for days now, I have slept in.

Sometimes gray is soft and daze inducing-
somedays it is a scratchy wool afghan stretched thin across my body,
leaving channel marks and rashes-
it is an unforgettable, unexplainable feeling,
the feeling of gray.

One day in march I took a walk down the greenway
and my movements became clear to me-
cigarette flicks and head shakes had purpose.
Since then- Gray is overwhelming.
It was a cloudy day when I took them- it has remained that way since.
For days now, I have let my worries gather on my thumbs and fingers-
for days now, I have swallowed the stones.