Catapult

I’m an addict,
never could see
when my urges take over
and beat up one of my three
little selves,

High-strung with life’s speedy
Joyrides and
Miscalculations I ask question after question
To your ire
and to my needy
addiction, feeding
And here I thought I was done with
Pointless questioning

Oh how I lose myself too much in the puddle,
and I hate that my spouse and
child settle for my watered-down self on most days.

I miss aimlessness
And hours of un-thinking
And just living.

And so on a catapult I prop my feet
ready to be swung away
to only my Creator knows where –
should be an alright addiction,
free and sweet,
I’ll see you in mid-air.