It’s not that I'm short on daily narration
I got plenty of stories I wanna tell
thing is
these sagas
are sometimes like
an unruly gaggle
of drunken teens
stampeding out of
the party in my head
at the same time
stumbling over each other
my brain an unattended parking lot
that they trash
with incohesive dialect
that I scramble to gather
and turn into stimulating accounts
to no avail
and in this precarious state
I’m no longer their monarch
they have no respect for me
don’t follow my directions
don’t give a damn
what I want from them
that I expect them
to display decorum
show up for me
rep my position properly
instead
they’re my bastard children
on a rampage
refusing to be tamed
during their circus act
leaving me unable
to regain dominion
and drive them to my page
without incident
Copyright 2014
Charlene E. Green
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