Exhaustion is an abandoned playground,
with cold monkey bars that spiral downward
turning weak hands blue.

F-you’s and hotlines
listed on winding slides.
Rotting cigarette butts,
all burnt out,
beneath the woodchip graveyard.

Wind tastes gray
blinding tired eyes with soil sties.
It shakes rusted swings,
that rattle to sing good-bye.

A paint stripped sea-saw in the shadows,
thumps back and forth under pressure,
Which side is better?
Is this forever?

The tall brown trees rooted in destiny,
barks and shakes its wooden finger tips.
It chucks acorns in protest,
crying splinters of regret.
Cracking from life’s lightening strikes.

Jagged stones sway like daffodils,
piercing soles and binding ankles.
Pulling me under earths layers.

I wake, spinning
on a simple, red merry-go-round.
Faster and faster.
Whirling reality.
Slanting gravity.
Perpetual motion.
Chilled metal of emotion.

Blue fists hold on,
fight through the night.
Forget the tears,
pretend it’s alright.
Bury all the hurt in warm woodchip dirt.

All exits are blocked,
entrances forgotten.
Truth soothes my broken back,
Soft, silk angels take me home.