Poetry

It was busy.

Hectic.

Lots of things happening.

Moments that were to be treasured.

Happiness at the end.

It was a very good day.

I awake exhausted.

Falling asleep is harder.

Nightmares rack my brain.

Fear drives me to the edge.

What can I do to limit my anxiety?

All I know is that the clock makes everything more evil.

I stare at it for hours

and it moves ever so slow,

taking my resting hours away from me.

Again.

It has flown past.

Scrolling through articles

and videos on my feed.

Why do I get so engrossed?

Today is important.

Everyday is important.

Why do I lose myself in these inanities’?

Clocks should be helpful

but time likes to taunt me.

The pause that happens

before the rest of your does.

It is a freedom

unexpected and delightful

after you have suffered through the other stuff.

What to do now?

I finished it.

I completed the task.

I feel so uncertain.

Anxiety takes control.

What is supposed to happen now?

You focused on the task so much

now that it is over,

what do you do?

What should I do?

I need help.

Reining your semantics in

causes a plurality to escape.

The stars may align

yet the dance still begins.

Be forever grateful

the debt is not yours to pay.

Pause and Reflect.

Practice self-care.

Take your own path.

See the beauty in small things.

Love who you love.

Be free to stay yourself.

Then, do it again.

No one reacts to my voice.

I can move objects but it only startles them.

Is this just the silent treatment?

Why do they act like this

when I am standing right here?

Confusion reigns and I find it strange.

Lunch would be great to have now!

Ghosts don’t get hungry.

Do they?

To make money

you need to work.

Work hard.

Labor jobs or stock market traders.

Flinging pizzas to painting ladders.

Who knows what you might do

but making money

seems to be all they want you to do.

Lucky or unlucky?

Seven is the same.

Pairs make things even.

Odds are you become crowded.

So watch the ebony cat

as it crosses your path

and walk under

that ladder with the thirteen steps.

Luck has nothing to do with

how bad your three hours of sleep leaves you.