Inward spiral

Disappointing people due to my own despair-

inducing, soul-sucking self-sabotage is such

the longest, loneliest fall into spiraling shame

that not even real repentance seems capable

of reaching to rescue with rehabilitating Grace.

Where are my shoes?

the depression scatters

judging, scorn-filled eyes

about the shadows cast

upon corners where webs

stretch from dirty clothes

to lonely shoes lost

behind the bedroom door

where any kindness feels

very far removed

Beware ticking off

Silent aggressive irritation

can sometimes sneak up

on you, sending you snapping

at innocents in your path,

like when old Mrs. Miser

pinched my right butt cheek

to rush Wally ‘round backstage,

squeezing time during “Our Town.”