Gripped by anxiety
like a
live wire
“I”
can’t let go of.
Bereft.
House fly
dances
on my clavicle,
wind chimes
sound with the rustle
of leaves.
…All I asked for
was an ice cream
in return…
Damn the mind and its wily ways.
My dog (my heart)
can’t go
through the night
anymore.
The pads I put down
in case I can’t wake
tumble in the dryer.
—
Seriously thinking of a digital sabbatical for August!
on the precipice 