the domestic life
by rcribay
When the week
ends, I arrive
home, eager not
for bars and
beers but for
you
and
sweatpants.
When the week
ends, I arrive
home, eager not
for bars and
beers but for
you
and
sweatpants.
(i would also like to thank you
for such a pretty thought
as your daughter
in the moonlight
revealing
dreams.)
I think I like to be idle
until I actually am;
then I realize that
there is only so much
Sci-Fi Channel
that can be watched
in one day;
and for this reason
God created video games.
sometimes
late at night,
i can’t stop thinking, wondering, pondering
about
what the future holds, where I fit
and whether I like that place much.
and all the thinking
gets me nowhere, except
to more tired in the morning.
I could see so much
Pollen floating in the air,
I payed attention.
As if the breeze had
wanted to be known, showing
gently Her power.
My brain is getting out of hand,
a little gem of insight sprouts into erratic thoughts,
and I scatter and stumble into this big nothingness,
this empty space between my body and the ceiling.
The blankness around gains on me, and I’m feeling
blurry each passing day. So I bought
an amaryllis to rebuild my pathway to humanity
but it withered the next day,
a bird to cage down my fears
but it pushed daisies the following day,
a cat to obtain celestial graces
but it purred and asked me to go away
