There is no longer any pressure,
self-produced,
to create nor feel,
no rushing to the chopping block
where I must reveal my innards,
to show something real.
Instead, I can gently rest,
not be concerned with
the haste, my imposed rush,
because it is time to take
some time out for myself,
I’ve been tired
and don’t I know it.
Constantly dragging things,
items up from me
is like fishing in the darkness,
I know what’s there,
there are secrets lurking
but I don’t know entirely
where, when, or what I will find.
The funny thing is this is
not even required of me –
I’m the one pushing,
to delve, so much so, that
the word ‘I’ is irritating even me.
Changes could be made
but I’m stuck,
hindered by this not so fail-safe practice,
it’s not tried and true,
and it’s tiring, true?
I need to step back…
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