Monday, March 31, 2014

Re: Not feeling up for a poem...

Dark, unreasonably cold.
Light turns to haze, 
turns to gray, turns to night.

Eyes close to sleep,
retinal nerves rasp,
pounding pain with every 
thought that scatters, shreds,
diffuses between me
and the coffee table 
  
Sweat cold and searing
temperature, aches.
Can't walk.  Can't sleep.  
Can't focus.  Can barely think.
Down aspirin and Tequila.  
Seek warmth in which to hide.
Cowardly covered on the couch 
shivering sweats, damp sheets,
head hooded, nose running.  

This house is not silent.  
Clock pounds on the wall.
Refrigerator roars 
and explodes to a halt.
Cats stomp around 
the hardwood floors
roaring for food,
jump from couch back 
to my side, crushing me 
into the cushions.

No escape, no exit, 
only misery
until it passes, or I do.

-dp-
1-31-12