My eyelids flicker
without hesitation
before coffee injects
its ever loving injection
within my veins.
Thoughts race around my head
as if greyhounds are racing for
a big juicy steak, and I fight to
just breathe for one moment.
Cracks upon my hardwood floor
remind me of fear that guns will
explode if depression visits one last time
and it shouldn't be this way first thing
In the morning; but it is.
Crying doesn't help me anymore
because people around me have
grown accustomed to my waterfall smiles
and these days they just say its because
I'm getting older.
The truth is only unleashed at
Mary Street- where they understand
red eyes and hair out of place-
they dont care how many tissues
I use or if I hang out an hour after.
It's my place of solitude
2nd place to nature and right now
its the only security I have.
