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I want to be the light leaking through your kitchen window.

The fresh juice.
Warm muffins.
Birds singing.
Coffee brewing.

                                                    But,
                                                I am not.


I’m the leaky faucet you still haven’t got around to fixing.

The orange peels.
Burnt toast.
Cracked eggs.
Broken mug.

                                        Breakfast ruined.

𓇋

I dreamt I was just walking down a street
When suddenly a lot of people came rushing out of this building
They were all shouting madly “Shooter! Shooter!!
They were running past me quick…frantically screaming
I thought I better start running too
So I turned around and started running after them, following them
But I felt somehow that I was slower than they were
A lot of people seemed to be passing me out
I thought I must be really falling behind
I felt I was bound to get hit…bound to get shot
I was almost waiting for the bullets to rip into me
I thought maybe the shooter himself was coming…maybe he was right behind me
Then suddenly I heard these shots ring out just like firecrackers
I thought maybe I should fall down and pretend I was dead
If only I could rub some blood on my face…on my head.

When the grand kiddos were little
We’d dream, big eating Rainbow skittles

Illuminating adventures in their mind
Telling fantastical story, to Unwind

They had a room in Nana and Papa‘s home
It was an imaginary place to freely Rome

One year it was the Pirates of the Caribbean
A bunkbed ship top bunk for lookout see’n

large canvas sail and fishnet to the ceiling
Glow paint the night stars realistic feeling

The captains quarters maps for steering
A talking parrot for laughter cheering

Imagination is in the minoot details
Starfish, sharks barnacle on the side rails

Looking at the finished room created
Pirate ship, Sea foam walls, stars stated  

Three boys, chose pirate names
For nightly stories are pirate games

Parents  never cool Nana the exception
Mother of invention, honorable mention

Bubble bath ink octopuses perils at sea
Captain jack to the rescue them three

Sleepy time, tea on the Shanghai express
Sail north to dreamland pirates , PJs dress

The story began each pirate made it grand
Ship battles buried treasure in white sand

Imagination fizzled started to fade
An epic Story completed well played

Listen, while the cobwebs feel their head
Prayers said success they’re asleep in bed

Clinically depressed
the clinic's a frickin mess
clinician's under stress
popping patients' cipralex
at her dinky off-white desk
still wearing last night's dress
reminiscing on the days
when she just tried her best

Head won't give it a rest
wishing she'd failed the test
could have been an insta queen
at least got in on the tiktok scene
instead she feels bereft of the chance
to take a breath

She'd rather take a slap
than see another fat smackhead
but she has to pay the rent or
start living in a tent
"It's a living"
that's her mantra
written on the pens
and every one they send
is another couple cents

So she just pretends that
what she does makes sense
punters in
prescriptions out
no time to make amends
patience measured in pence
she can potentially spend
perpetuating searches for
that promised happy end

Life wears me out with its
twists and turns, and
hairpin curves.
I keep waiting for
a long, peaceful stretch
of a highway, bathed in
the rising sun.
A golden wheatfield to
to the left, a moss-covered
pond with dragonflies to
the right.
The road turns to gravel
and climbs rapidly uphill.
There are signs along the
way that promise the world.
The road gradually turns
to dirt and ultimately
disappears.