I’ve gotten in the terrible habit of
Determining my self-worth depending
on the collection of feelings from that day
It turns into a stampede of pleas
of ‘I’m Tired’s and ‘I am Sick Of’s
I’m tired and sick of myself,
of the way I slink back into
thoughts and feelings I have
once been determined to let go of
I know you’ve heard
that letting go, is the hardest thing to do
but I don’t think you’ll quite believe
how impacting and distracting it can be
until it’s the only thing left to be done
These days run into each other
like children playing tag,
stumbling over hours with
disorganized footsteps,
all my heart desires is
Rest and more rest
Seeping, sopping, wet fears
and insecurities making their way into
my dry head – this is more than I can shake
off, so much time to be aware of
My conscience won’t let me leave my words at that
there’s an everlasting guilt when I express raw sorrow with out
some sort of reconciliation,
But today, embedded in the overcast air, there is
a lingering stillness that I cannot form into
words, cannot string together with vowels
I’ll let my persistence in seeking
lasting comfort be enough of a declaration before dawn
I’ll dismiss my racing thoughts
for the sake of getting something done
The ache, it grows until there is no room left
it stretches across my chest into my throat and pulls at my neck
This evening, I am lacking
in a vocabulary to rid my mind of muck and mire
sometimes there’s nothing more to be said
Accepting This 