Some Mondays; Maybe You Too

Some days are an ambush.
I might have suspected from the overnight phone demise
- a night in which I'd chosen poorly, reading to the wee, small hours.
I overslept.
And Awoke to the sound of crashing plans, cluttered moments, and pillows on the floor.
Demons peeked out and creeped out of closed closet doors, dim corners.
The so-many, too-many, way-too-early voices slammed in
all clamor and yammer.
This didn't go the way I hoped; that didn't work out like I planned.
Worry clawed, gnawed and shredded the edges;
I'm frayed.
All wrapped up in the crap-trappings of this world:
unpaid, needing repair, temporary, ugly
I wonder why I bother
Why I care
Why I listen
Why it matters
Why am I responsible?
These tripping expectations that lay strewn across the floor
hard lego-edges gouging deep.
I must be careful
Or I will wound myself on my own sharp edges.

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