Freewrite: Ennui #1

Posted by in Writing

I sit

in the box,

legs cocked up in rebellion

the sunroof wide open

like the thighs of a hooker

letting in heat;

or the roar of the wind


I sit

in skinny jeans and tan socks

because I want to be what I used to be

but I’m not.

So also, a long dress that falls


and shell top shoes

still intact on the broad side.

I want

to get out of here

to take a moment for tea

and attention to breath

to get lost in the bird talk

I long to decipher.

But I keep myself

squarely here

and let just a little

of the breeze come in.

I hold to strange dreams

that dissolve at first light:

intangible growths-

the cancer of anxiety.

And like the birds, I want

to unravel them:

To find meaning in their strangeness

To find signs from God;

but there isnt time.

So I sit

with my legs cocked up

and take a moment

to write this poem

at least;

consider the lake

the air out there

wanting to have it all

or maybe nothing

or just not the box.

I sit.

How weary I am

always always

I am only breathing,

I think,

to bide my time.