n38

The pressure deep inside my head— Auspicious not, the worry tides Endless conscientious gnarled By the plucky chide feigning unwittingly, Foreboding deep in loam, The will lolled by malediction. Cacophony, like a gaunt pauper Who surrenders to their throes, I surrender to vertigo— To the cordon horde— The sentinels, spectral agents of wraith, They demand my concession And I, with no mediator, The pang of desperation, Squalling like an arrested heretic— I am mulling, ruminating, Too afflicted to reap the past.

The difference 'tween work and home Is not much different to me I call in sick every hour In every mirror I see Sometimes it's the mirror in my room, Or the one at work in the bathroom Sometimes in parking lots on car doors And puddles on the ground outdoors Sometimes upon a turned-off screen, Sometimes upon a window clean I look upon myself, so sick, Please let me not go where I will, Please let a moment the world still, Please let me once for catch my breath-- Please don't against my spirit kick! I look upon my face tonight. Please, rest those eyes and do not wake. Let not morning come, because if so Again to somewhere you will go And

Far from home My Pitch goes North, And I confront the front of Death With sheen and fire galore.

Must I keep buzzing And turning around, Towards the sun in the day Just to glow in the night? How will I shed These Victorian shingles, Melting their cream color From my icy heart? Twice 'round the sun, This is all I could muster. Twice 'round the sun, I squeezed it out Like nectar from honey suckle.