Recurrent Daze

Each of my days is a perfectly fine, doable chore

Not much of a worry, accomplished, gotten through
no sense of satisfaction, no great sense of dread
for the next day – tomorrow, no sense of beyond

What I’d like to have is a padded cell – walls, floor
ceiling, totally dark, no light whatsoever, soundproof

In which I could weep, wail, scream, beat the floor
beat the walls, throw myself around, around until

I am either dead or alive, released from nonbeing
my current state, disconnection, a brain filled

Perceptions, none able to excite feeling, passion

10/5/2018

Copyright 2018, Philip D. Hughes-Luing

I Am What I Hear

I am my thought plucking
the string of nothing

Making a sound
that doesn’t exist

10/6/2018

Copyright 2018,, Philip Hughes-Luing

Small Craft Warning

I have no home in my brain
nowhere I belong
no mooring, no safe harbor

I am out to sea
permanently
no longer bothering
to seal the leaks

10/6/2018

Copyright 2018, Philip Hughes-Luing