Sleeping is nice, when you can.
It helps you feel refreshed
For another day.
Drugs are good, if they work.
Some people need more,
Some people need less.
I like to sleep, if I can,
And I’ll take drugs, if they work.
Sedatives will do the trick,
If you use the right ones,
But you can take too much
Of that kind of stuff.
Addiction is worse
Than a little insomnia.
So I try to relax on those nights,
As best I can, without them.
Sometimes, though,
You just gotta do what you gotta do.
Tables are good, as tables go.
Tables can be used and abused.
You can eat, write, lean, negotiate, talk gossip, talk trash, talk in circles, if you want to.
Tables are good with chairs.
Chairs are good for sitting on.
Chairs can be comfy, or they can be hard.
Chairs help you relax, or sit up straight and pay attention.
Chairs can be made of leather, wood, metal or plastic.
I like chairs. Would you like a chair?
Please sit next to me in your chair at the table.
Let’s chat about life.
Let’s make plans.
Let’s eat breakfast, lunch or dinner.
Or maybe just a snack.
Or maybe dessert.
Maybe cake and ice cream!
Maybe tiramisu!
I like lots of desserts.
How about you?
There once was an orange. He was very happy, as oranges go. There was plenty. Plenty to go around. There were oranges here, and oranges there.
Then came a horse. The horse was hungry. He had come from the west, where things were very dry. He looked at the orange, and smelled it. The orange was fragrant, and looked juicy to eat, so he did, at least try.
The orange sprouted two arms and two legs, and began to fight back. The horse already had him in his mouth by this time, so the orange reached out and punched the horse in the nose. The horse yelped, and dropped the orange. The orange landed on his two feet, and ran as fast as he could, to get away from the horse.
As the orange ran, he started to get thirsty. He saw a bucket, and he figured that there could be water in it. The only problem was how to climb the bucket. The orange saw a rock. So he rolled the rock over to the bucket, then stood on the rock. He could just barely reach the top with his fingertips. So he grabbed ahold as best he could, then pulled himself up.
He dropped down into the bucket and then discovered another problem: the water was too deep, and he had nothing to stand on inside the bucket. Just as the orange was treading water, trying to figure out what he should do, along came the horse again for a drink. The horse looked into the bucket and saw the orange and the water. The orange cried out, “Please, mister horse, bend down your head for a drink. I will not hurt you.” So the horse bent down and began to drink.
Eventually, the horse drank plenty of water. So much so, that the water was shallow enough for the orange to stand on the bottom of the bucket without drowning. After the horse had finished, the orange gave a great push on the side of the bucket, and it fell over, dumping the orange out on to the ground.
From that day on, the orange and the horse became friends.
Underneath a burning sky,
Wilted muscles,
Broken bones.
Thirsting for water.
Squirming so that I can’t sit still.
Shuddering from itchy skin.
Poison ivy, head to toe.
Laying in a bed of nails.
Calamine might do the trick,
For a few seconds, anyway.
Or perhaps it is the contact
From rubbing it all on.
Bed covered thrice,
Sheet, then corn starch,
Then another sheet,
And more cornstarch.
Get too hot, you sweat,
Then you itch,
Then you scratch,
Then you ooze,
Then you scratch,
Then it spreads,
And you itch some more.
A vicious, endless cycle.
Taking prednisone,
And Benadryl,
And Ativan,
And more calamine.
Catching sleep when I can.
Hoping for mercy,
More sooner than later.
Next time I decide
To pull up weeds
And pull down vines,
I’ll be wearing long sleeves,
Long pants, and gloves.
Will I ever learn?
Sometimes it seems
That I am doing penance
For the wicked demons
That rage inside my mind and heart.
Other times it is different.
Things just flow naturally.
I am strong where you are weak,
And you are strong where I am weak.
Our personalities
And physical impairments
Fit together
Like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.
We work together,
Hand in hand,
To create a wonderful masterpiece
That we call marriage.
An angel, they say, I am,
For putting up with all
Your special needs,
And those of our friends.
So compassionate,
Such understanding,
To always be there
When you need me, they say.
But it is you who are the angel,
For putting up with me.
All my faults,
That come aplenty.
Being married
To a strong, independent
Woman, who happens to be
Visually impaired,
Is not a challenge,
When compared
To a husband with mental illness
And all that comes with it.
Your needs
Pale in comparison
To all my hang-ups.
So how can they say
That I am a saint,
When you have had
To put up with so much
For so long?
If it was up to me,
I would be alone and miserable.
But with you,
My life is complete.
With the grace of your
Forgiving, gentle heart,
You have spun a cocoon
In which both of us
Ugly worms
Have been transformed
Into beautiful butterflies,
Fluttering through the sky.
Stumbling along the sidewalk 