Poetry—
helps me to free
the demons inside of me.

Shrunken
Sentences into digital para
meters.
Glance at a screen forever
Stolen
Sightless birds criss-crossing
And swiping food away.
Hands full with
Thoughts
Emptied and tidied ferociously
They
Discovered.
Jury retired defendant
Launches new attack pattern
Society
Crumbles.
Again.

You're having another meltdown.
It's ok.
You're having another nervous twitch.
It's ok.
Your nerves are shot so much—
Your heart has gone to the moon.

Back in the living room, laying down.
It's ok.
You're breathing in and breathing out.
It's ok.
Your chest is rising with a sense of calm.
Your nerves are returning to the launchpad.

In the tumble dryer cycle of life, again.
It's ok.
Your mind has looped itself around my leg.
It's ok.
As much as I pull, I can't get out.
You're ******* my soul, little pig.

Flowing with the surf of 6 feet waves.
You're ok.
Your little boat—capsize is impossible.
You're ok.
My seat next to you was made in heaven.
Pushing and pulling we float to the sun.

Worn out from this endless sea of crises.
It's ok.
You're in this with me, there is no escape.
You're ok.
We will survive, partners for life.
We will discover the peace within us.
We're ok.

Churning like fresh milk,
my stomach feels the choice.
Two turns in equal state,
the cat inside the box meows.
First, there is Status Quo—
Doing nothing is still one choice.
Second, there is transformation—
Doing more and being another.
Cycles of choice and change,
repeating forever and ever.
A nursery rhyme princess
shrieks my name, dreamlike.