this game of twister,
calls new contortions
relentlessly
rest?
momentarily precarious
for a short space
then resuming perpetually,
pain stretches like a dotted line
little breaks marking
the unbreakable view
shoulders tighten over-looking
footsteps make shivers
constant tension
in torturous drips
drained dangerously
curled upside down
a crusted face
strains whitely unwashed
the eyes wiping emotion
that isn't safe to leave
horror etched on retina
god of lesser things,
give me simply
a cup of the ordinary
a moment of stillness
a single hour to be free
of pervasive anxiety
take away the plastic mat,
my soul has a charley horse.
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