the sieve and the sand

Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother’s poetry.

Nervous fidgeting
Changing channels
Passing peripheral glances
Mannerisms that unnerve
The tension that festers
Settles in, wraps its tail
Around and binds
Staring at the ceiling
Hoping to find respite
But only seeing darkness
Out the window
Dingy street lights
Faded by purple sky
Filled with thoughts
That bounce and bobble
Feeling no better
Falling asleep on the couch