The sad ones are often the best ones, but the best ones are not always the sad ones. 

guest

She's in the driveway 

screaming 

"This is Nat's house" 

down the phone

but

Nat's not here, she 

left before she arrived

her lower insides have left, even

escaped from her own body --

run away so she cannot run away

It is not possible to do the ol'

stealthy getaway on crutches. 

somnartyrdom

I take pride in being

the last one awake

I wear the holes 'round my eyes 

like badges 

I tell myself 

I am Being Productive

what I am really doing is

RunningMyselfintoTheGround

one foot at a time,

one Ankle...

I recall

that they call that

acting the martyr

theatre

There I was:
day four, horizontal --
but not in the good way.

Legs half in/out
of blanket
but not a good way.

Eyes on my body
but in a very serious way,
about to be opened
but not in a fearless way

No bra on / lip piercing out / nail polished removed
not in the usual way --

They put me in a blue room
dug something in my arm

the highs and lows crept in
then I woke up hyper-
ventilating.

"Possible, impossible."

"We thought we had such problems. How were we to know we were happy?"

-Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale. 

bite

if I could just un-sting myself,
pull that little
vex out of my forehead
to see a bit
clearer..

but the obtuse remark
sits firmly into the night,
inhibits the words
that were meant to go out and off

so that they must be unveiled
tomorrow, instead --
and then tomorrow instead
will come
on Saturday
on your day
and then I will feel guilty
about feeling guilty

flatsomnia

We're each as bad as the other at sleeping
except I've got nowhere to be in the morning.

pettifogging

Some impossibly ochre light 

has cast itself over,

setting the trees olive-khaki 

against the city-navy sky

6am, last of streetlight-elder

casts itself my very own insta-filter

my very own 

matte kaleidoscope --

my psych-thriller mise en scene

ambient with morning's cues

the slight possibility of Phone Call

sugar-rimmed with Tramadollusion

things I realized while walking the dog

eye in hand of hand's eye

and I, and 

by and by

bylines and by-sights, by chance

(sharks in both sleep and swimming)

two lines of time, sign of concentration, beautiful edge

mark the other eye:

number three --

three with three and twice three,

the third three mine

and now -- in time -- yours too...

threes in signs and avian divinations

"sign of the times" he says, says she

but three deliberates

three's unsure

three necessitates thought

eye gravitates towards the hesitating; hesitation being

the crux in which feeling fluctuates

in and out of time; the

eye opens and closes, flutters it's lashes

voraciously against the hand, occasionally

lashing out in love but still will

retract and sigh, the eye

skyward as if we should all 

gaze upward

but little occurs there,

mostly it's all here with the

Earth

nesting in the valleys

sleeping at lake edges

restlessly meandering

certain of chance and change. 

quite hilarious

Quite hilarious
to see the businessmen of Hamilton
standing urgently
importantly,
constrained in their perturbedness
'gainst the mannequinned
windows of an
Adults Only sex shop.