Exhaustion hits me like a pendulum:
Appearing, fading, reappearing, fading.
A never-ending cycle.
Melting away with company,
Reappearing with loneliness.
A revolving door,
A Nascar track.

They tell you
“keep going forward.”
“You’re on the right track.”
But they don’t see the left turn
And the next one.
And the next.
The territory I travel is well-worn and familiar,
The grooves on a record
The lanes on a track.
A pattern.

Life is made of patterns.
Life is exhausting.
But it depends on the company we keep, what we do with those things.

photo credit to: http://awelltraveledwoman.tumblr.com/post/88957105726

Like clockwork

I woke up at 2:30,

My eyes slowly taking in the soft glow from the street lamp outside of my window.

I listened to my breathing


My heart skipped a beat.

I don’t know why.

Or maybe I do, deep inside,

But I ignore the reason.

The same as I ignore the slight chill

That settles on my naked torso,

Where I pushed the covers away in my sleep.

I roll on my back, shutting my eyes,

But the room just starts spinning.

I haven’t been able to sleep since.

Lying awake at 3am.

Like clockwork.

Every night.




Like clockwork.