Criss-cross

Sitting there like
stiff white coats and ties,
trying to jump-start the mind on things to do today.

Breakfast and personal cleanliness come into consciousness
but, quickly changes to
contemplating the quietness of the hour.
Only the refrigerator’s low hum sounds
and some hissing noise
coming from the apartment.

Room vast like
revolving white wards of yesteryear.
Books covering the room
chanting, reach out and touch me.

Oh, how my heart yearns to touch and reach out.
Stories spewing out like
people milling about aimlessly in the not so distant past.
Plots swallowing you up like
white pills taken yesterday.

My thoughts refocus again,
hoping as a broken smile
to live in the present
which still burns as a low-lit candle,
deep and bright, within my soul.

But, clinging to the past reemerges along with
my two bailiwicks-my mental health and
loneliness and that
damn hissing sound off in the distance.