Poetry

I do not know if I am happy.

Though freedom comes with a price.

One I have not paid.

One I can only hope to pass on to a world so darker

than the one I knew.

Feet planted firmly.

Earth underneath.

Head is looking up

but not lost in the sky.

If only the eyes were not clouded.

A routine.

A habit that made me happy.

I was able to do it everyday.

Now, if I am able

sporadic do the poems come.

Routine changes really screw me up.

The rabbit is limping.

You ignored its pain.

You did not help it.

Instead you thanked the viper for exposing the injury.

You knew the viper caused it.

Still, you choose the viper.

When it bites you, remember the rabbit you left to die.

Souffle that falls.

Angel Food that is devilishly simple.

Devil’s Food that overdoses the chocolate lovers.

Pound cake that makes a difference.

Or be a bread and be different.

Curiousity kills

So does bravery.

Healing begins

when the truth is exposed.

Communication draws blood.

Terminal digestion

becomes fresh gyrations.

Dragon’s find their wings.

Away to the left

A river falls.

Ahead I see a lake.

Behind me the dam is breaking.

To the right the stream is at the bottom of the crevasse.

Swept away into the water of consciousness

I try to hold on.

My breath becomes laboured.

Yet, drowning is not an option.

The driving fan is broken.

I cannot cool down.

The engine is failing.

Forward I must go.

Someday my light will fade.

Today is not that day.

Scrolling down.

Text after video.

Short bursts of dopemine.

Looking up finally.

The time is later than it is supposed to be.

Bad decisions.

Scrolling continues.

Bad day to begin after a long night.

Describe your process.

Who’s job do you do?

Can you answer me as to what this means?

Help.

Am not sure this is legal.