A Miasma Of Hormones - Poem by Renee Marie
Raging toward 50
Biology wins again never asking for my permission
even at 3am; who would allow
such interruption, the soaking of down filled pillows, the cold December on clammy skin, my own personal summer-like inferno underneath wet cotton sheets.
did NOT give permission at this ungodly hour!
I might as well just
get up and put the stupid T.V. on again.
might put me in a coma. Hell, maybe I’ll
go for a walk – god forbid anyone tries to attack ME;
I’ll put THEM in a coma.
OH MY, what’s happening?
This miasma of hormones, sweat-letting through my tired ass
has brought me to such lowness of thinking? NO, I’ll
take a hot bath. NO, a cold bath. NO, a lukewarm mineral salts bath. YES, that’s it! And I’ll play that overpriced Shamanic Dream CD
from the Chopra Center, sip a little glass of red wine, tie my neck up to
the spigot so I don’t drown in case the wine and music and this equally overpriced
Lavender-Spearmint Dream aromatherapy oil
puts me to sleep…
Or, I’ll just lie in my puddle mess, finish that chapter in…The Punishment of Virtue
yes, that’s it, read; the ultimate sleeping pill I work so hard to resist during more
delightful and untormented hours
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