Sometimes
it’s a struggle
just to keep my eyes open
I feel anxiety’s weight
resting fixed
like a fishing lure
that’s been dropped
in the dead-center
of my thoughts
Sometimes
I hear the clock ticking
I feel the pages turning
Knowing that most of my days
are in the rear view
a fast-approaching horizon
through the windshield
One eye on the road
I fumble with the radio dial
musical snippets and static
trying to find that perfect
sequence of songs
before the ride ends
That’s the goal
bendingtheneedle 