VERY NEARLY

I awake to
strange patterns
and all lines
are slightly bent
and it's true,
my thinking
is defenseless
not everything
is rigged to snare
but like the lines
I'm simply bent
and with enough
space and time
I always end up
where I started
from who's hand
is in the puppet?
to what's the very
worst thing I could
say to you right now?
but to laugh and
love anyway
to keep painting
in the rain
this is my one
great achievement
but you see
even that is
not the truth
the truth is
the pills aren't
working,
I very nearly
killed the baby,
and those phone
calls are about to
become knocks