Lost my shit on the ride home
Johanna M. Geiger
I am not this or the other thing.
Instead, I am floundering somewhere in the middle.
Good Morning, Jo!
I wake myself from the sleepy slumber, imagine my arms and legs attached to a fine string
forward pulling, this puppet-master tugging at my floppy extremities
a haphazard struggle toward the thrumming alarm.
Dizzy, I wake.
Today, maybe, I will learn to make eggrolls or
mix my own flavored cream cheese. Today, maybe,
I’ll just practice getting by, practice passing through the doors of productivity,
but not letting the should should should wash over me like panicky little waves that leave
my body hot and my head thrumming.
Good Afternoon, Mother.
I lost my shit on the drive to the bagel shop
after my meeting with the therapist, who used to be my therapist, but probably not any longer.
There are no more pills to halve. There are no paths of return.
Red-eyed bleariness, then confusion.
low humming of the engine halted. I wait in the parking lot for the vibrations to subside.
Poetry note: I really wish WordPress were more…flexible with the formatting of my poems. The spacing is off, but there isn’t much to do about it here. More of my work is available on Wattpad.