waiting

My eyes cannot 

stay open tonight. For weeks

I have longed

to pull back 

the thin sheet that separates

me from anxious

dreams; the kind 

where I'm waiting tables in some

vaguely familiar place 

and people are 

waiting for me to take 

their dinner orders.

The guilty panic 

starts setting in just as

I remember that

I haven't worked

at a restaurant for years.

Still, I feel 

them waiting for

me, just as I wait 

ever more impatient 

for just one restful night.

Poetic Bloomings #65 - Betrayal

Your mean-ing

I just don't know what
you mean when
you say you're a follower

of a religion whose deity
clearly stated that 
the greatest spiritual law is 

to love one another as 
you love god;
to judge not; to forgive. 

And yet, you judge. Harshly.

You call it god as you
judge true followers
who know to love you

despite the self-righteous wrath
you spew at
people whose lives, decisions, and

agony you could never imagine.
They will never
forget your judgment. Your mean-ing.




Poetic Bloomings #63 - Uncertainty, I don't understand