The endless countdown of insomnia

whispering the hours of rest ahead if I only “go to sleep now”

Drowning in the early hours

by neighboring chain saws and leaf blowers

Idle wishes that spellcraft could transform me

waking dreams of hibernation and life in a remote forest cave

The clash of arguing teens, at unholy hours

the mundane crisis of dishes

The words want to flow over every interruption:

a flood, a landslide, a disaster to bring silence

But my volume is less, and my presence invisible,

in this odd mediation of the every day

It’s a life lived like a cha-cha

all repetition and a shuffle

tracing the same steps over the same ground

like a strange, domestic Groundhog Day

lived while I watch at the same time

The early mornings

of constant interruption

Until a horror movie scream

lodges itself in my throat

and I breathe

and I meditate

and I murmur “inner peace”

and I run

I write

I project myself into quiet

The life of the introvert:

constantly surrounded

Without a moment of silent thought

alone… ~ Caroline A. Slee

Note: I am laughing and shaking my head as I write this. Mornings are such a drag sometimes! 😉

The Poetry of Irritation

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