How does one split focus?
I don’t need spectacles to tell me
When something is real
Or really fake.
The decisions in the day the
Places that I go
Are all a device to an end.
But what is the end?
What do I put the focus on
In order to see most clearly,
And when I choose, does everything else
I prioritize and end up feeling
Like a cat on hot coals
I keep jumping. Flailing. Prickling.
The numbers keep spinning,
The clock keeps turning,
And then another week goes by.
Spinning into infinity a tornado,
Sharp curves, tunnel vision and
The calm I force to wash over me
Is a device of alarm.
My panicked heart thumps
To the rhythm of a garbage truck
Or a car passing by
Or the hum of the computer fan.
I wake up to find the sheets thrown about
And the fun of the night before
Leaves little to grasp
Of what needs to be done.
Broke and happy,
Underworked and overstressed.
The days wind down and nothing gets done
But I have so much to do.
And then, another week, goes bye.