Good morning, Poetry People. It's too early, but I woke from a terrible dream at 3 AM, and since I'd end up in the ER if I called up my old pal Jack Daniels and his partner Jimmy Beam, I decided I'd go down to the sea with my old friend Debussy instead. Never mind all that, let's get started.
This post goes on a bit of a downward spiral at the end, so you may just want to hit it to see the prompts I used and then quit it. In fact, this is the strategy that I advise.
Uninfluenced
Write a poem about something in which you have absolutely no interest.
I have absolutely no interest in so-called "influencers." I couldn't give a flea fart in an F5 tornado what these self-absorbed prats have to say.
Write a patience poem.
I wrote an anti-patience poem about my lack of patience with self-proclaimed "influencers."
I wonder what has been influencing these very lifelike but thankfully unrealistic dreams I've been having lately. I suppose it's down to stress like it always was. I feel like part of me is being destroyed from within and changed into something cold, dead, and sociopathic, and I'm projecting that feeling onto the image of the person who is closest to me.
I know this makes no sense and I wish I could talk about it with the person I used to discuss dreams with, but they have too much else going on in their life and no time for my mushy-headed bullshit. I imagine that feeling utterly alone, adrift, and misunderstood isn't doing my crap subconscious much good.
For the love of all that may be holy, don't bleat out the old "but mental health professional" bullshit. Those fuckers never helped me a damn bit, plus I live 50 miles from any city, and fuck a whole lot of that shit. I need a friend and preferably one who is open-minded to the metaphysical, not a psychoanalyst. I understand enough about psychology where I can figure that shit out on my own.
I don't trust easily, and I'm really not looking for anyone to "solve" my problems. Really, I'm simply overthinking things and don't have anyone to help me deflect my pain. Boo fucking hoo, it's not like I'm the last friendless person in the Universe. It's a tale as old as time. I don't need no doctor and I don't want no drugs. I just want to get the last bit of that lousy dream out of my system so I can get back to sleep.
Maybe my old friend Claude can play me a reverie so I can sail back to the Land of Nod and go fishing for better dreams.
~Meanwhile, Ornery Owl is Still Thinking~
Image by Chräcker Heller from Pixabay
