Burnt Out

I turned on the sink

when I went to take a shower.

Put a spoon in the microwave

for five seconds at full power.

As a child I had ambition, wide eyes and a fearless vision.
Now sitting in my kitchen as the microwave smokes I’m thinking maybe,

I need a change of pace.

A walk instead of a run, sunglasses instead of sun.
Because somewhere, I forgot that we all get overdone.

Good Practice

My darling,
I don’t even know what demons
your drowning in your drinking,
but it’s left me alone and thinking
with such tragic sinking feelings,
that I’m concealing from the world
in my own bottles swirled with ink.

My darling,
The weather for tomorrow is a
steady cast of showers that they
say will birth the flowers in my
heart, but I forecast an overcast of
grey and cloudy pencil shavings
shading the sky from light to dark.

My darling,
The fear I find in freedom it follows
feverishly in my dreams, and
delicately woven it seams as if a
monster were screaming talk to me
talk to me, and in a way it seems
that if we spoke for just a moment
our severed searching souls might
sleep soundly and serene.

Darling.

Stopwatch

In 48 hours I’ll be in your arms
in 47 hours I’ll be 250 miles away
in 46 hours I’ll be kissing your lips
in 45 hours you’ll take away the pain.

In 44 hours I’ll be smiling
in 43 hours I’ll be anxious
In 42 hours I’ll be longing
In 41 hours I’ll be impatient.

In 40 hours I’ll be rushing
In 39 hours I’ll be late
in 38 hours I’ll be forgetting
In 37 hours I’ll be ready for a date.

In 36 hours I’ll be whining
in 35 hours I’ll be asleep.
In 33 hours I’ll be dreaming
In 32 hours I’ll be restlessly awake.

In 31 hours I’ll be tossing
In 32 hours I’ll be turning
In 30 hours I’ll be wondering
In 29 hours it’ll almost be morning.

In 28 hours we’ll be talking
In 27 hours we’ll be reminiscing
In 26 hours I’ll be board
In 25 hours I’ll wonder what I’m missing

In 24 hours I’ll be right here
In 23 hours I’ll be packing
In 22 hours I’ll be cleaning
In 21 hours I’ll be napping

In 20 hours I’ll be eating
In 19 hours I’ll be writing
In 18 hours I’ll be eating
In 17 hours I’ll be typing.

In 16 hours I’ll be painting
In 15 hours I’ll be drawing
In 14 hours I’ll be learning
In 13 hours I’ll regret it’s morning

In 12 short hours I’ll be lazy
In 11 short hours I won’t leave bed
In 10 short hours I’ll be out of this world
In 9 short hours you’ll be in my head.

In 8 short hours I’ll be peacefully asleep
In 7 short hours I’ll be tearing at the sheets.
In 6 short hours I’ll be resting quietly
In 5 short hours I’ll be breathing heavily.

In just 4 short hours I’ll be saying one more good night
In just 3 short hours I’ll be turning off the light.

In only 2 more hours I’ll be staring out the window, at the snow.
And over the next hour I’ll wonder why time moves so slow