there’s no joy in

too much..

in too green

or too lush.

so i tend to rave in the fields

and draw circles in dust,

finding objects to hold

and others to hoard.

knitting blankets from weeds

and proudly trudging in muck.

lord, i couldn’t live without him

but i knew that i should.

i exist now as an echo,

while he wanders in caves

hoping someday

I’ll parrot

all his ill timed


and lovelorn malaise.

– sc




19 thoughts on “malaise

  1. Making much out of not much is a gift. Appreciating the unspectacular and even commonplace around us that is always along the sides of the road. Like discarded cans and bottles and MacDonald’s containers —the contents eaten. Like inauspicious people who come alongside for brief moments of our life. Good one.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. it’s such a human peculiarity, the need to touch things, to hold it –
    “finding objects to hold
    and others to hoard.” – as if anchoring ourselves to something, and so well juxtaposed against the later “echo” you become, quite unable to hold or be held and contrasted to the more primitive wanderer who wants what he can’t hold.. so curious this human condition

    Liked by 1 person

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