Pressure

Pushing down 
on the shoulders
Stamping on the brain 
yelling,
work
work now 
you do know what will
happen
if you don't?


Future looming
darker than night
with eyes closed
heavier than dark matter
forcing you down
down.


But


Hope
a slim ray of light
seen through the crack
of the open eye lids 
that maybe
possibly 
you'll be OK.


Then


Storm clouds 
roll over
shoulders pushed back
work
work now
do you know what will 
happen
if you don't?

The Pessimistic Crow

So I think this is the 50th post? Bloody hell it's only February.

It digs itself in to your back
claws firmly splayed apart
digging in deeper
when you try to stand up straight.


It squawks if your thoughts wander
reminding you
that it's always there 
always 


It spreads it wings
casting you in shadow 
while solemnly turning its head
making sure there is nothing
nothing.