Lonely. . .

Pain
injecting into brain. . .

Upset
+++++in belly,
+++++throat to gut–
+++++a glut,
+++++an onslaught
+++++fraught with fear
+++++and desperation. . .

Only
+++++to lie in wait–
+++++the lowly
+++++inaction
+++++I can take–
+++++and in the confines
+++++of my body-mind,
+++++be kind,
+++++when ounce for ounce,
+++++I’m far from set to pounce–

I scrape
+++++and claw
+++++for shreds of faith
+++++in eventual resolution
+++++of yet another round
+++++of re-ordering
+++++ablution.