rungs wringing of respect

Saturday
i am just now getting my coffee
3 o’clock???
wow i was more tired than i thought
yet most was tossing and turning
stretching the back
trying to find a way to silence
pain

i want to examine why
others see me differently
than i see myself
why is that?
i suppose they don’t get the full barrage of my excuses
and i write differently than i speak
because i can THINK while i write
whereas speaking i am processing why that person’s
face is not responding as i expected
how do i misjudge so many things?

it’s Saturday
and i’m just now having my coffee
day ahead of me
stomp over head
back and forth the man sees his home
as a prison
but i never paced
even in a cell with bars

*flinch from a particularly big boom*
how does life get to you?
it only leaves me with wonder

coffee is getting cold
time to sit and contemplate the world…
adults to my child were very hard to get over
we had very big adults

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(they saw the world wars and
didn’t blink an eye at the thought of nuclear annihilation)
it never gave me confidence
how do you tell them that bravado only works on the ignorant?
i think more on those sort of things
i remember more
read a lot of books
some see me as going too fast in the wrong direction
or i did before psychiatry made a playground out of my head…

some see me as a creature that panics
some don’t understand real reactions
singular reactive states
predictability is the way they love their mornings

Saturday of all Saturdays
the proverbial coffee
only a drink
can somehow sum up our lives …
does anyone have it easy?

but you see, I’ve got Stomp overhead
and I’ve got to deal with the fact
that i know exactly where you’re coming-from

but i love me, anyway

(you’d be surprised how little it takes)

*has sip of coffee and walks offstage*

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