On my mind this morning:
drowning in a dream again
where the walls are red and I'm already dead.
I check my flesh and steady my breath,
push it away to the back of my head.
Breakfast. It's time to get life on the mind.

I'm trying to take in her face,
the barley-blonde and clover-green,
beautiful things to dismiss the dream.
I smile when I catch her eyes,
and make sure it looks like it reaches mine.
"Sleep well last night?" she asks; I lie,
a little one I tell sometimes.

On my mind this afternoon:
taking inventory at the Hall again
where I'm in control while I work alone
with things I know in organized rows.
But in fertile silence the old thoughts grow
like a parasite in my mind.

I'm trying to enjoy my day.
I need some air and light and sun.
Check hair and clothes and wander on,
wondering what I did wrong this time
when it's been so long but I'm left behind,
still forced to try to find
wherever I left my peace of mind.

On my mind tonight:
drinking in the pub again.
I hate the overwhelming smells and sounds.
Though I love the people, I hate the crowds.
But it's lovely just to be around
to drown the voice inside my mind.

I'm trying to ignore the storm
all day banging around my head,
and waiting for my fears to end.
They always say it takes more time,
so I just pretend I've got my mind,
but it's not okay and I'm never fine.
It's always on my mind.