Count the days

Count the days

i no longer count the days. hours, maybe.minutes- sometimes.years, absolutely.but not days, not anymore. i no longer pick up chips,keychains,birthday cakes.a day is a day (is a day) but one day at a timemeans they tend to blur together- as maybe they should. years,...
This is not a good poem

This is not a good poem

I haven’t written anything in a while.People have been asking me why. At this point, I have so much to say I don’t know how to say it.I worry about saying too muchOr not enough,Police sirens whirr through my mindMaking creativity impossible. I fear...