February 6, 2014 
I am moving into
another head
where thoughts are kinder to me…
With more breathing room
frosted Windows, and better wiring.
With fluffy pillows of cerebellum
to soften nooks and crannies
and fewer doors.
Where Disney daydreams never get interrupted
by the Emergency Panic Service
(conducting a test in my area)
and Night Terrors
are just a show on TV.
When I move, the only prerequisites
for my new, grey space
are “fugue it” rooms
(for wall-scrawling)
a widow’s walk,
& guard rails….
maybe one of those gliding, stair-lift thingeez,
to facilitate illogical leaps, and breaks in rationale.
When I move, I am throwing most everything I have already, away
Boxes and boxes and boxes
and boxes!
(bet you knew that was coming)
of stuff Pandora likes
but me not so much
and a few, dead cats the reek of which
permeate every, single meta-phor of my current mind-frame
> even high heaven <
since death
(like heat)
rises.
©Karen Robiscoe
Charron's Chatter 
Love this poem ( if I can call it that ) 😉 Amazing , and I really wish for that sometimes. To move into another head. This poem – just lovely! 🙂
well–it’s definitely free verse…! I do disciplined poetry too…Just not lately. too busy packing…;)
Thanks, Tina. ‘Good to know the “Unkind Real Estate” is a relate-able state!
It will be lovely with more fluffy pillows, kinder thoughts, can I move in too?
you bet…I think daily syNAPses are in order, too…:)
Have a gr8 weekend, Ute!
Excellent 🙂
You are so freaking smart. You think naturally in brillance…
ahh, Cindy, what a generous wondrous spirit you have. Thank you, from every view in my kaleidoscope…:)