Work-A-Day

i woke as i always do

pissed washed and shaved

as is the way

and sat calmly at my desk 

to begin another day of company work

as i must

and all the while in my mind 

a persistent and barely muffled screaming

like the whistling of a kettle from down the hall

or the sound a man might make

caught in a collapsing house on fire

frantically searching through the flames and smoke

for an exit

Down

always on tongue’s tip

suggestions and hints

some fuming secret

just beneath only

almost erupting

why breach the surface

only to be known

delineated

weakness ascertained

if war must be waged

better to remain

subterranean

The Home of Doubt

that place where old doubt

has taken its residence

pine cottage on the mud lake

reflecting the worn mountain

eroded to a high hill

beneath mounds of moss

Despair

the crisis despair appears 

first in a yellow haze across 

the well-lit room disguised

it never deigns to warn a soul 

before the storm but only 

whelms and stays

above the nose below the eyes

feet mired in hapless drudge

drinking in as apprehension

crosses the panicked face

dawning that saccharine hope

rides a soluble boat

The Low

hide away inside the shell

when true self is dullest hell

you cannot bear to show

you know rejection very well

the boogey man is being slow

vulnerable like a bleeding wound

with teeth and tongue consumed

beneath the bed you burrow in

senses pleasures all detuned

until you feel you can begin again