Photo by Bekir Dönmez on Unsplash

I’m neurotic, from head to toe;

if you observe, you’ll get to know.

Last night in bed were springs of tears.

Today I quake to look in mirrors.

Eyes red and sore, each gaze wreaks drought,

My temple throbs — it, too, wants out.

Last night my mind remained clenched tight.

Today it chokes with droll delight.

Half here, half far is bone from flesh,

while in between, stale worries thresh.

Against thin nerves, like harpist thrums,

fear courses through, mockingly hums;

it makes me think I must conceal

what bloodshot eyes, clown-nose, reveal

to passers-by who may wonder

if I’m ok, or just under

the weather, but it’s obvious

I’ve got to say, — I’m in distress.

And now I’m quietly unnerved;

I’ve broken my long-time reserve.

I’m neurotic; I’m trying though,

to end for good this mawkish show.