weighty mood

on the counter
yogurt and diet coke
an apple a day.

a running game,
on a treadmill moving nowhere.

on the brain
a weighty mood
and things left unsaid.

an ugly little brown bird on the railing
sits for a minute and floats on by.
not very gracefully.

and the fear
of speaking up.

and the guilt
of consuming too much
of ingesting everything in sight
but not giving myself up to anyone.

never fully.

a small sound. laughter maybe.
but probably not.
it was a key in the lock of the downstairs door.

a waiting game, looking at the digital numbers.
not giving in.
not yet, but soon.

-----

this writing is bullshit.