She’s a lovable bundle of anxiety.
Thoughts like a cluttered
Chelsea Hotel room.
Awkward with a sizzle.
What is this divine activity?
Her buzzing daemons chattering above.
They’re winding her up.
Building in her an electrical current;
To feed her thoughts
That seldomly go array.
She needs to transcend out of this.
Needs a renewing mantra.
To dive into the alpha.
And awaken back into earthly arms.
Poem and Drawing: Naomi Ruth