evening poems
while william shatner
tells me all the unexplained mysteries
i should care about
but i simply
don’t
~~~
big yawns
and split-up sleep
and hopefully getting
the cat to eat
or take her meds
at least
[almost done with this trip
and i’m so excited to sleep
in my own bed
once again]
~~~
but seeing people has been absolutely lovely —
i wouldn’t exchange that
for anything
[even eight uninterrupted hours]
writing while
breakfast is on its way
writing while
thinking about the coffee i’m unable to drink
writing while
my phone is struggling to charge
writing while
picking dog fur off of my clothes
writing while
haunted by all the laundry i need to do
today
writing while
only able to picture
the fantasy of potential nap(s) i could have later on
writing while
so many other things are
swiftly swerving in and out of my brain
and i can’t seem to concentrate
on the writing part of
writing
while
i cannot tell
if the emotional
or intellectual toll
is highest
for these
grand jury days
[but i am solidly
exhausted
at the end of the day
either way]
i don’t know what to write
[i don’t know how to write]
my brain has been sucked dry
and all that’s left is
stardew
valley
this whole experience
[even after only one week]
has been wild
honestly
just from a ‘working a regular old 9-5’ perspective
because, damn if i haven’t craved the weekend
with the hunger of a hundred vampires
as my only chance to truly
truly truly truly
relax
[unfortunately, this first weekend was quite…
full]
[maybe next weekend i can
sleep]
can i sleep
for a week
and regain my ability
to be a person
throughout a day?
so much i could be/should be doing
but i’m not doing
i’m not doing
instead i’m exhausted
i’m last-minute-ing
i can’t even tell if i’m
excited
or apprehensive
but i keep going
somehow
somehow
i keep going
my whole concept of
the day of the week
is gone
is it wednesday?
is it a weekend?
have days ceased to be
and now we’re living off of
vibes alone?
someone help me
be a person
again
i feel as though i’ve
run a mile in my mind and
i still can’t seem to find
any kind
of through line
or success in a poem of mine
perhaps this is the type of morning to
hide under the sheets until
i feel human once
again
tired
inspired
driven
distracted
saddened
and suddenly
maddened
and then
a little
glad
and
that’s just what i can describe
of my emotions
this morning
no wonder i always come back
to
exhausted
kipventures 