I spend my life under a load of stress and a security blanket.
The slight smell of ammonia travels in and out of my nostrils.
These blank stares and taped-up collages are all I know.
I find that I only look for mountains I can’t climb
and can’t help but enjoy the pain I endure.
The only quiet moments I experience lull me to sleep.
I cringe and panic when I’m in the presence of an overly-loud television set
and I’m usually given a hard time about it.
Is it possible for time to be soft?
‘The light through yonder window breaks’ is what I wish my persona inflicted upon
the people that step into its Ora.
I’m more of a splintering, thick tree. Grounded and firm, but constantly dropping
pollen and helicopters on your freshly-washed vehicle.
Lest we forget
the feeling it gave us to stand under the tall, sheltering oak during a thunderstorm.