My god. I looked at the last post. October 23. How far I've fallen. I don't know if anyone reads this. It just comes in waves. The retreat away from the world. Into apathy and lethargy. Stillness. No motion. No moving forward. I didn't know what to do so I wrote a poem about it.

The undercurrent

It isn’t quite like being sucked under
That is too melodramatic, ignoring
The days spent watching law & order
In complete chronological order

It isn’t quite like insanity
There are no shove offs into the deep
No razor mark evidence of my chaos
And no neat rows of dishes to scare myself

There is a lot of sleeping, tucking
My head under pillows, dreaming of moving
To Minnesota and living under a pseudonym.
There is a lot of sitting awfully still in the kitchen.