Freedom
control precarious,
the anxiety grows,
the restless mind rebels,
not intentionally,
or voluntarily,
only out of fear and uncertainty,
the world makes no sense,
logic and reasoning,
skills lost on the masses,
the world a dangerous place,
when minds run free.
Rough Weather
outside the bedroom window,
the sky gray,
the wind icy,
dust blown about randomly,
thoughts jump ship on this dark, dank day,
breakfast a spoon full of peanut butter,
and a slug of milk from the jug,
no appetite exists to devour this day,
the whiskey beckons behind the cupboard door,
blood counts and chemo spike the urge,
opening the door to head to the doctor's office,
the air warm,
the day immaculate,
the weather raging,
only on the inside.
The Changling
a chameleon,
with no mind of his own,
mutating along with his audience,
neither truly black,
or white,
but enough of each,
to fool the people,
at least for a little while.
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