my days
have become
hour glass shaped
i rise
early morning hours
sit in front
of my screen
in quiet stillness
feel alone
in the world
reflective
internal
my thoughts
warm
tumbled
amorphous
as I slowly wake
thick golden syrup
after sleep
this is when I write
food
caffeine
percolates
through my veins
brings world into focus
things become narrow
sharper
more goal focused
my wheels turn
a well-oiled machine
i commute
inhabit my day job
a different, sharper
me
answer
phones
emails
questions
tend to other’s
needs
demands
the unwinding
unraveling
starts on
the way home
i ooze out
of the corset stays
that have
contained me
all day
simply longing
to shrug off
workdays concerns
i have not been
able to control
the flow
I am
without boundaries
drifting further
and further
deeper and
deeper
into my dark recesses
I do not mean
to go to all
the places
where the pain lives
where I only see
failure
inadequacy
where
loneliness
isolation
are daggers
to the heart
a thousand
stinging needles
i can plaster
on a smile
offer what I cannot
give myself
to others
hide
that these evening
and nighttime hours
have become
my personal hell
that I am the devil
Golden syrup…
Another powerful punch.
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