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 