As I Lie
A.J. Huffman
in this bed trying
to shut out the metronomic
ticking of the clock, my mind
projects the never-ending list
that has become my life
across stucco span of ceiling.
It glows electric, defiant
against breath of fan
blades. I imagine it blown
away, fragments never to be
found, but it remains
emblazoned above me, even
when I close my eyes. I watch it
grow, breed, replicate, repeat. The trivial
mundanity is over-whelming. I cross
one item off, three more grow
in its place. A horrid Hydra of house
and paper, work meetings and migraines
waiting to happen. I want it gone,
for a week, a day, an hour, but I am
trapped inside a waking nightmare of time-
management-planning-montage, complete
with visions of everything
but sleep on the horizon.
in this bed trying
to shut out the metronomic
ticking of the clock, my mind
projects the never-ending list
that has become my life
across stucco span of ceiling.
It glows electric, defiant
against breath of fan
blades. I imagine it blown
away, fragments never to be
found, but it remains
emblazoned above me, even
when I close my eyes. I watch it
grow, breed, replicate, repeat. The trivial
mundanity is over-whelming. I cross
one item off, three more grow
in its place. A horrid Hydra of house
and paper, work meetings and migraines
waiting to happen. I want it gone,
for a week, a day, an hour, but I am
trapped inside a waking nightmare of time-
management-planning-montage, complete
with visions of everything
but sleep on the horizon.
About the author
A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida. She has previously published six collections of poetry all available on Amazon.com. She has also published her work in numerous national and international literary journals. She is currently the editor for six online poetry journals for Kind of a Hurricane Press (www.kindofahurricanepress.com).