I’m haunted by a circadian rhythm

It’s unlike any other; it’s a tainted trip and it cycles in a year

this time last year I woke and read and devoured your words

or was it the other way around

I opened each one as it was window slamming into category five winds

but

after management

hours weeks and days later

One things still irritates me like a scratch on the arch of my foot, as it follows me and I pound it into the ground day by day



You - to me - I’d be a measuring stick.

The best one had (had), cherished, longing soaked streams of logic pulled from heart corners


justifying my anger, ruing sadness, haunted,
I’ll sip it slow, manage;
I have no where to be, and no one is asking.