Dismals

Day alone
left to devices
I plod about ponds
in neon green.

A lightness has begun
creeping in,
grams shaved off
the block of marble
over eons.

Where did the mantras come from?
"I should be dead. I should be dead. I should be dead."
What drives that foreboding sense of digression,
like I wandered behind the scenes
and can't get back to my seat?
"I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here."
I've slunk
under the glassy floor.
Fascinated by the rough underbelly
where I forget to breathe.
"I could be extraordinary. I could be extraordinary. I could be extraordinary."
But those magical pockets
of gold dusted synapse
fill to the membrane
holy multitudes
and for a brief flicker
I belong.

Haiku of the Day:
Sweet bubbles and acrid
ferment tingle with smoky hues:
Fall Beer Fantastic!

Today's Drawing (inspired by the word "Collywobbles" from MW's word of the day. It means a stomachache. I've decided I'm drawing monsters for the last of October.)

Today's "365" Project (FINALLY! I finished the piñata I set out to make a month ago. It turned out miserable. His name is Phillip. He's an acne-ridden beast who wants nothing more than to not be smashed for the skittles and reese's cups that make up his insides. Unfortunately, we cannot oblige his wishes. His death will be swift, violent and fueled by sugar-lust.)
"Poor Phillip"