Making a Mess

She’s all over my thoughts,
She’s all over my brain,
She builds it,
She wrecks it,
I let her.

I stumble through it,

I make it through it,
I trudge, I shuffle,
I sway, I duck, bob, and
weave.

I spill my ashtray,

I spill my drink,
I stare off into the
lost distance of
memory.

I made a mess,

I clean it but the
mess still remains
no matter the wash,
no matter the scrub.

There’s still a mess in

here. It’s just not clean,
it’s just not easy, it never
is. Why should it be?

Watch your step,

mind the mess,
the puddle,
the crud,
the curls of my frown.