the anxious poet

I lie in bed and listen.

The fan hums and the pencil scraps.

My mind wonders painfully on and on.

One useless thought after another, looping continuously onto one another with no purpose, idea or knowledge.

The well within rises up, like a flood and chokes me.

Then... a new sound.

The pounding of my own heart.

Pond, 2018. iPhone 6, Ginger Cochran
















Published:
The Writers Newsletter
Envision Arts Magazine