Open Windows
I sit on my porch absently looking off to no point over the tree tops
The window is open but there is no human communications
Listen for the phone that will not ring
Wait on company that doesn't come
And the voices that do are unwelcomed whispers from some cold night
Breathe hot humid stagnant summer air that hangs
In front of me like ghosts from mistakes past
No need to obsess over deeds done but like the scorpion it's in my nature
There's squashed bug guts on my lounge chair
Try not to get it on my arm
Madness is creeping up my pants like late summer crab grass
Invading the lawn
A bright red cardinal swoops by on its way to...
What other creature fights insanity and stares off into clear space?
Need to shower and soap away these feelings
That bottle of pills yells out "harry" from the kitchen
And it's more than just my name on the label
Frozen on a hot summer's morn, that's as much sense as it makes
I know that if I can just make it to tomorrow I'll be better
But, there's so much of today left