5,000 Distractions

I want to stay outside and play!
Huge tracts of distraction on the way.

Coming in to the arctic of a kitchen table and required paperwork.
Where’s that pen? No, not that pen, the good pen, yeah that one.

Itchy areola! Don’t scratch ’til it bleeds ‘cuz the pain later is worse
but that itch is like a crease in a tablecloth on my brain that I can never get straight.
IT DRIVES ME FREAKIN’ INSANE!

Laundry?
I never do laundry until I need clean clothes.
Why now?

Man! I hope I never have to tangle with a tornado.

Moisturizing bothersome body parts.

Trying to put my mouth in a meditative state so I won’t be able to think about so much stupid junk.
How DO you do that anyway?

Counting the threads in a pillow case.
Three hundred! Really?
That is way too many to count.
How many responses to my comment thread?
Zero.
I’ll go back to counting my pillowcase threads instead.

Visions of him and I writhing on a bed
me, begging to be made liquid again

Shake it off and get to work
address no fun address blah, blah, blah

I have many strands of hair enough to keep me warm at this table of a tundra
a barren landscape of fill in the blanks.
Man! The tedium of a form!

Music will do the trick of bringing focus to this boring task.
Aiming to keep on course so something classical perhaps.

Heavy lids that cannot stay awake
I will withdraw because it is much too late.
And face
the cold again
tomorrow night.

waves crashing in a stew pot

Monday Stew

waves crashing in a stew pot

Stuck in a big stew pot
left to boil til I rot

talk about a case of the Mondays
I really want to shoot the whole day through

crashing into waves from Monday Stew
alarms sound in my ears by seven

another week’s start,
I’m defeated by eleven

Not enough time, there’s just too much to do
feelin’ like molasses stuck to the bottom of my shoe

trudging through the grind
Man, I can’t wait to unwind

Monday Monday really stinks on ice,
but why does any other day suffice?