creativity · Humour · life · ME/ CFS · poetry · writing

Finding Corners in Fitted Sheets

Intensity drops in,
early, before I have a chance
to set the day in order –
puts me on the defensive.

She clings, encourages me
to hold on, her sick creativity
awake with impulsivity –
I am ailing, loyal, compelled

to launder the linens,
desperately trying to find corners
in the circular fitted sheet –
dependent on daily chores.

She wants to talk about feelings –
but I am still numbedĀ from sleep,
from this never-ending illness,
from this perfectionist drive for optimism.

She wants to embrace, hug me
into submission, lecture me on the benefits
of organics and loose-leaf teas, and I am
too busy avoiding her to be grateful.

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(My chosen prompt for today’s challenge is “circles can’t have corners”)

ME/ CFS · mental-health · poetry

Inner Turmoil

Outlets, I have plenty,
for the excrement that accumulates
within these challenged walls

I soak and scrub, and
paint my cabinets yellow
hoping the optimism will sink in

will match the green of my smile
the expansiveness of my exterior
but the in-dwellers are provoked

question ego’s motivation
in selling off the residence
shaking their sedentary slumber

there was respite in disability
an imposed seclusion that calmed
the worries, invited complacency

who can rest in this motorized
uprooted reality, and what purpose
will evolve from the overflow

of emotions that flood, flashes
of insecurity, defying wisdom
threatening to cloud our sunshine?

dreams · life · mental-health · poetry · Uncategorized

Off Stage Fright

Point me towards the boards;
watch me improvise – calm
rehearsed, funny mastered,

catering to audiences a forte’,
command performances key
to locking out this perusing

soul’s wordless angst – will
unleash soliloquies, cleverly
unscripted quips to delight

well-attended audiences,
on queue hijinks, will not miss
a line, or quit the show, find

refuge in the wings. Spotlights
motivate me, trigger adrenaline;
save me from an interminable foe

that stalks behind the curtain
sneers at applause, assures me
ovation does not to me apply.