So absurd and quaint;
this feeling, faint,
that pulsates
behind my eyes.

In God We Trust
but still, we rust,
as the temperature
rises to steam.

Triggered and mean
in broad-daylight, seen;
it’s a bitch and it’s
eager to feed.

Yanking, asserting its
bile on a mind

What was it I
was just worrying

Ever-present and
smarter than I’ll ever
be. Hateful: it shivers
and shakes me.

Glow in the dark,
star-jumps in the park,
there’s a lioness
on my lead and it drags me.

Be still, my beaten pulp,
I quench to gulp,
lean in and let it
drive you away and away.