Crows Feet

Worrying, deepening wrinkles, 
crows feet at my edges of time 
cut deeper from winds & storms
into a well worn wall, adobe thick,
mud proofed in the sun 
from my distresses.

Storms, find me fretting 
over uselessness. Silverware,
china patterns, the right gauge 
shot gun, sofa colors & styles, 
impenetrable impeccable prayers,
correctly folded towels, right answers, 
dishes in the dishwasher stacked 
in strictest order.

Ah, lost cause self-flagellating 
perfectionist, seeking shelter between 
idiot temples of ridiculous donkeys 
believing themselves to be storming gods.
One – Rightness, the other – Correctness.
With their stomping thunder clap hoofs
and lightning they strike at my feet and eyes, 
blinding me, forcing me to jittery dance
between their stubborn hatefulness.

© SB Joy, 2021

Ah, perfectionist affliction: What emotion, life event, pain lays under it? Shame, self loathing, pride…?


2 thoughts on “Crows Feet

  1. No Ho says:

    I was trained and conditioned in self contempt and betrayal modeled by “for your own good” parents.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. SB Joy says:

      😞. Childhood boot camp… then we spend a life time trying to undo.

      Liked by 1 person

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