Maybe it’s an automatically extracting nerve,

that initiates that mood of feeling sorry for just me.

Life was beautiful on the lonesome hill and

I know it is going to be good again someday.

It’s not the temporary circumstances but

more my own uncertainty that’s in the way.

15 days in the front seat of a rollercoaster,

hands in front of my eyes, afraid for what I could see.

Maybe I need that proverbial kick in the butt and

face the consequences that are here to stay.

Learn to ignore inconvenient physical defections

that will accompany me, up until the last day.

Another ten weeks of randomly chosen words,

excuses to the readers but it’s the only cure for me.

*****