Burnout

new york pity

I pity the fool
who moves to new york
who packs all their baggage
and squeezes it in
with the others
the overhead compartment
busts at the seams
and it might just bring
this whole plane down.

Ode to the Couch

Poem

You.
Yes, you, forcing yourself on the world,
come lie on this false bottom that breaks the…

In/Within the Liminal

Words that are swallowed

Career gone to hell

To live is to love, laugh and sing
For there is only existence, 
if you don’t put the effort in
The life can dwindle into a…

Back from the dread

A poem

The life I lead — Or is it “led”? 
A trotting steed — Where did it tread?

The girl at the window

Typing away for 12 hours, maybe 14
sitting at my desk, next to the window

Burnout

I have important work to do,
but I don’t want to do it. 
I’d rather sit and stare at a wall. 
Or maybe do nothing.