click-click-click

My thumb impatiently presses

the nub at the end of my pen,

while thoughts ceaselessly stresses

my anxieties. I carry my burden

.

In my backpack, straining

against the worries that flood so fast,

the tensions that make my blood start raining

down when I think of my past.

Jesus, I wish the good days would last.

.

click-click-click

My fingertips clank the black keys

of my laptop, aching to find

a single word, perhaps one that frees

me from the rib cage that is still mine.

.

No matter the horrors I conjure,

I can't find a lick of substance to write.

Of this I wish I wasn't so sure,

but still, against my best efforts I fight.

The flames inside my skull still ignite.

.

click-click-click

The heels of my boots smack

against the asphalt while the moon

above my head shines through a crack

in the clouds. It's all too soon

.

That the ache in my veins

leads me back to the fun

of crawling to bed, where darkness reigns

and all good feelings get shunned.

I think this time I'm finally done.