The Longing For A Time Which Is Any Time But Now
For a year now I think (Perhaps it’s more. It’s hard to say now that time and promises are no longer a sustainable thing) I feel like The prairie fields of my heart which I used to gambol barefooted through with infinite agility and endless anticipation has been attacked by the quickly stacking Jenga blocks of futile news stories an unbearable grief for tenderness punishing bills the taunting of age The ongoing quarrel with darkness The plaintive wail of solitude The forever lost days The drinking The binging of Euphoria which leaves me feeling empty and hopeless And the longing for a time which is any time but now. Add to that my obsessive fixation with my phone which I stare at endlessly Like it’s my prom date the minute that her lace gown and corsage Land at her ankles on the floor of a Hyatt And that’s when the Jenga blocks collapse. And down the rabbit hole I go Just like Alice Until tarts And tea parties And pools of tears Float me back to the top Where once again I