The Longing For A Time Which Is Any Time But Now

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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

If you tread long enough

Dreams will be born again.

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