it is hard to
concentrate with
my heart pounding
in my ears
no music or reading
two sick kids
meant a lot of
movie time and
the idea of more
makes my insides
squirm in irritation
hanging at the cusp
of writing where
it is building up
into a full bodied
breathless need
yet i am not quite
ready to put my
head back into
that particular
insanity quite yet
the weekend managed
to slip away as i
cooked and cleaned
a manic housenurse
needing to find a
way to make everything
better while trying
to ignore the faint
burning in my chest
the itch at the back
of my throat as my
heart fills my head
and the story is
screaming so loudly
a kettle spewing steam
while i sit crackling
random storms of
rampant agonies blur
everything into a
colorless sludge with
a hint of despair as
i sit all alone and
i do not want to
be alone with this
maniacal idiot another
minute more but we
are chained together
in the sleet blowing
through the cracks in
my kaleidoscopic soul

i can’t stop thinking
that in a day or so
i will have beaten
my dad’s record for
consecutive years lived
a spectre that has been
inducing anxieties with
an incessant undertone
for the last month
my crazy seeks patterns
and without any it will
create conspiracies
from the random chaos
like equating my dad’s
death age with my own

perhaps edging this
story is my sick way of
punishing myself
a little happy birthday
mindfuck to keep me
at the verge of a fresh
dissociative vacation
but this latest bout
of pristine mania has
swept the cobwebs from
my cavernous skull and
i have the next two
stories already planned
but what is a little
self sabotage between
mortal enemies trapped
in an entropic enigma
irradiated by a constant
bombardment of semi
literate poetic
inconsequentialities
looking for the next
crystal clear sign of
my impending demise
my pulse beating so loud
the backbeat from
ace of spades pummeling
as a fool thrashes in
an impotent storm of
lonely lightning strikes
well aware he is unwell
yet unwilling to be
anything more the
willfully unaware