this is me,
trying to force out my writing...
i want to avoid
ruminating on the negatives;
i want to embrace
the beauty, the simple, the elegant...
will my mind cooperate?
not without many inner lashings and reprimands,..
you see..or, rather, let me explain...
it sees a problem to solve,
a thing creating disease --
and, focusing and magnifying on that -
all the butterflies and bees
are pushed aside with the flowers and trees...
to make room for nothing more than fleas.
I end up, picking at scabs
That have not an ounce of itchy pain,
IN some forlorn hope
That my skin will be smooth, again.
and... alas, infection is more likely.
noting, now, how negative this turned -
I refrain from banging my head upon the keyboard,
and crying, in desparation,
"Why, God? Why does it go down the drain?"
...yet i will not flush this post,
and I will probably never come back to revise it..
So, it will bleach into the white page,
Like some sort of dog scat,
Left to bake on a friendly Texas sidewalk.