SOMETIMES THE VOICE IS GOOD
And suddenly the world became complicated.
And the act of being still became either too much to bear
or something I committed days to on end.
And I stopped doing things.
And I slipped into routine and lethargy.
And it took tremendous amounts of energy
to simply say, "Hello," to anyone at all.
Pretty soon the floorboards started to warp.
And my fanbelts started to squeak.
And spiderwebs began to pop up in what used
to be well travelled places.
The file cabinet began to swallow without chewing
and papers were suddenly everywhere.
Documents and certificates and things that
I'm told are essential
if you want to remain alive.
Dents popped up in the body work.
Occassional twitches to the left eye.
And moments of resign coupled with
that tiny, familiar voice recessed in the back of
That little, quiet voice that thankfully repeats:
"Survive. Survive. Survive."