Rest

poem by: Anna Fuller
Written on Oct 13, 2016 

It's changing it's changing.

It's changing,
she screeches apologetically.

Caffeine rushes to half 9,
then it begins to sink in,
to work its way down,
submerging beneath  depths she never calculated

one day she could be jobless-
free,
perhaps,

she will not sit in darkness,
ignoring the whines
seeping aimlessly from the aching jaws she loves but cannot treasure,
 
instead she will rest.

 

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Edward shields commented:
Strange poem.

 

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