This morning, I’m taking a break
The choice is scarcely mine
I’m nearly clawing to the
forefront of an exhaustion
meltdown

And Pandora’s on the fritz
blinking off..on my J N Howard
kills my brain every time, but
not now, not this morning;
I’m taking a break; I’m –

*it’s off again*

And the love/hate relationship
with my task app’s rolling more
toward hate; I can barely look her
incessantly blank or numbered stare in the
face anymore; she’s always nagging…my
sweet, sick
Siri
Pester away, digital pocket girl
I got my coffee, and I’m on break
There are laws about this, you know

And there’s a chapter to be written
in a heart capturing story I can’t escape
about a man who fears light, not dark
That dude, that idea – he’ll have to wait
if I forget about him…he’ll be back
or one of his friends
They’re always hanging around
They can push me closer to insanity’s
edge later
I’m on a break

And my body’s still (always) compulsing,
turning my nails and cuticles to bloody
nubs because I keep forgetting I’m supposed
to stop chewing them, but I couldn’t stop, even back
when I cleaned up other peoples’ pooh for a living
THINK WHERE YOUR HANDS HAVE BEEN!
Oh – and that too – that worry about the idea
I’m only dreaming; I’m not really here with
coffee and keyboard, but only in a prolonged
nap beneath some stranger’s house, so long
even the resident vermin think I’m dead
There’s another story idea!
It’ll have to wait
I’m on break
I need my bloody fingers to type

About that – the typing and the grammar
and the fact that this is a poem that isn’t really
much of a poem – inner QC guy is going to have to
get back with me later; he can punish me then
about my lousy writing and the issue of time –
how there’s never nearly enough, as if I control it,
as if I could read some monthly flavored self-help book,
invent a magic wand and multiply the hours so I can
get more than five hours sleep, work three hours a day
on a novel, work eleven hours at my “real” job,
set aside an hour or two to relax and socialize to make
me well-rounded, and still squeeze in a minute
or two to take an occasional leak…
I don’t know where I was going with that
Doesn’t matter
I’m on break

How and why am I accomplishing this break?
It’s a little magic pill I stumbled upon
to arrest feelings of anguish
to lay a warm blanket upon fretting
to bandage bloody cuticles
to pump cool breath into shallow lungs

I am proud
My dear boy received a special award,
his accomplishment
a proud little magic pill for me

“Swim along, my boy!
Swim along!
Swim along, and don’t worry!”
I’m watching you
on my break