the passing storm

the tide is turning      waves are building           higher with each day      a build up of           tension                stress           until all is                drowning                     sinking                          suffocating                overcome by                     obligations                          responsibilities                               a task list so long                                    its a novel                     so many things                          so many pills                               so many, many things and pills                                    all piling up so high                                         so high                                              so…… Continue reading the passing storm


floating      on a cloud    in my         wonky    world I dare to dream       these pills    could work     I could be   normal     again

grey lady

I am shrouded in mist a ghostly grey lady sweeping back and forth cross the room more suited for graveyard than office maintaining like clockwork a half-hourly pacing to exercise this gammy leg while eyes droop drowsy with drugs and I fill myself with tea to fight the fog