honeysuckle: poems by colleen cosette goodman

apathy

I am foggy inside - fog spills from the sky in waves and tsunamis. I am forgetting appointments. I am breathing too hard.

I try to pick up the pieces and shuttle off to someplace else. But I cannot. Fog is too alluring. I must explore the depths of this place so unknown and choking. I have all my tools; it is all ready.

I try and I try and I try but nothing ever works but fog.

The nineteenth of December, 2016.