How did I end up with "this" jacket,
this thing that comforts me,
keeps me warm
but holds me in so tight,
I've long ago passed claustrophobia
Now inching somewhere less sane

This jacket...this life.
I wasn't careful enough, didn't explore enough,
didn't talk enough, didn't inflict enough,
I didn't stretch my arms when I should of.

Slowly the world chose a life that fit my habit,
draped it over my shoulders and let time shrink it
tight across my chest
like leather drying on bound wrists.


Now, I sit, I stand, I take the cue
and walk where the floor tilts
until I'm stopped by gravity.
Sanity!
How I wish to lose it!
Back when... I needed the clarity
and vision to guide my ambition.
Not now, though...how I loath sanity!




:::Anne Sexton, thank you for helping me find my pen.:::