Mild Concerns

If I see my crazy

In their words

Their crazy…

If their truths ring deep

Stab true…

Does that mean

I’ll lose myself

Like those

Who found me

Did too?
Will I

like Plath

Take my head to the oven

Will I go

like Woolf

To the lake?

If writing couldn’t save them


Is it silly

To think

I’ll escape?
They skipped

The flesh

They got to

The bone

After all

The stripping,

They cracked

The unknown.
Well then maybe I shouldn’t.

Maybe I’ll

Just sit

Very plain;


The ache.

No wandering

For me,

A still mind

Can’t break.

As their endings

Carve my words

And their words

Call my ending

Stringing me

Undoing me

Til what I look

Like is


And I’m strangled

In my string.

(I stopped rhyming

Which is never

A good sign)

It means




Is coming.
…But what was that?


You say

you think

about the unknown


Maybe the solution

Is heading

To that water

With you.
Now my concern is going.

And my reason is showing.

Again good things are growing.
Hope yet.

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