Consolidating fuzz into yarn makes me a friend to sheep everywhere. Spinning the filaments of truth into cables of life does not impress the mutton in anyway, but sure does my mental health a world of good. Free floating fiber is bad for my lungs and piles lint all around. Giving things a firm twist pulls together what used to be fluff and keeps me warm and dry.
Jones for candor
I cry the waterworks so necessary to the healing of my heart.
I explode with the fireworks required
For anger to set living boundaries.
I sleep the sleep of angels, as I link to dream works
Allowing mental maintenance to occur,
Slip into my political face, making time for public works.
I return to my abode, call the pie maker and order “the works”.
Have it delivered so I can face the homework
Waiting for me and baring my name.