Unsettled
Empty - a half-drunk decaf latte...
Futile from the start.
No foam.
Energy wanes
Spirit lacks to soar and
cupfulls of rain drench
the wetness of (my)
existence.
Calm quiets me
but roars in the caverns
of my ears.
Soundless.
Yet strangely,
It is all
I hear.
Must be something in the air Manic... because YES! I am on my period!
ReplyDeleteLeave it to you to know what really is going on!!!!!
You need to grow a goatee and wear a beret when you recite this poem
ReplyDeleteOkay, I'm a guy. You know what guys are like. And when you mention the "wetness of (your) existence", well, despite the rest of your poem, "strangely, it is all I hear."
ReplyDelete[And, obviously, this is someone else who stole lbck's identity just for this single comment on your posting.]
luck's just right before victoria receives e(x)oneration
thanks for checking in.
ReplyDeletei'll be fine, but i think i've one upped you on the mental mom-ness, eh?
Kelly--you still blah?
ReplyDeleteTommy--I already have a goatee, and I am wearing my black beret. Are you snapping your fingers?
Her master--perv. Ha, but I was thinking the same thing when I wrote those words about my wet existence. BTW, not sure I understand your comment about lbck?
Jane--I hearby crown you more manic than me. Be well.