if only i
could do
something
with this
restlessness.
this immobility
and inability
to tend
to my
responsibilities
constricts around
my panicking
mind.
this purgatory
manifests from
myriad and
banal moments.

these woes
can come from
nowhere. it's
ofttimes there
in the light
when sunday
sets the sun.
in the heat
or the
treacherous
and insidious
night,
in these
paltry words.

consumed and
weepy i feel
its iced grip.
it beckons me
and i feel
the thief
pushing hard
for it
but it only
abates if
i can
muster the
resolve to
look away.