Capricious
By Capricious Lestrange
That’s what they call me, but it was never my mind that changed all the time; left my aspirations rotting on the vine. It’s easy to dream. Actualization impossible when energy wanes more than waxes and body break better than breathes. Dreams come to die in bones like these.
Head Pain
By Capricious Lestrange
Headaches arrive daily
like the mail or a horoscope,
never quite the same
ever fortuitous.
Some a wire wrapped cap
a size too small,
lurkers that cause little harm
though they persist.
Some are nebulous yet fierce,
Stomach churning, full of lust.
Blanket my brain in chains
Of iron and rust.
Some hover above one eye
bass speaker, magnifying glass,
A tip tap bombast
of cranial persecution.
Others steal sight, blinding
gems of marquis and trilliant cut,
dancing girls in tight formation
among the whorls and fuzz.
Agony
By Capricious Lestrange
It fills every thought the way sand invades every crevice. There’s no leaving it behind or brushing it off and even days later, you still find traces of it, here or there; a haunting of sorts. Before you know it, agony is always tagging along. You take her with you shopping, to parties, your job. Your friends are not impressed. Agony has made you dull and they’re wary of what She wants. To be safe, they move away, hoping you might wise up and dump her. You try to pay her off, but Agony cannot be bought. Before you know it, your Facebook status reads “In a relationship with Agony” and your friends congratulate you and sprinkle you with tiny hearts. One by one they drift away, Agony your only counterpart.
Genetic Stalker
By Capricious Lestrange
You are the boundaries I never wanted drawn.
Fault lines shifting in quicksand, elusive as breath.
Thirsty as a lion in drought, you stalk these dry bones
for a chance to suck the marrow.
What’s this?
Solid earth beneath my feet? Sweet, tender grass
tickling my toes and sunshine pierces the veil, imparting
her promising warmth. I sit for a meal of dandelion wine
and greens at her table, arrange weeds for my bed.
Dream of open prairies until claws hook in flesh—
Jaws sinking into bone. Fault lines shift, I never wanted drawn.
Did you know The Unchargeables feature poetry on the website? Read more here!
About the Author:
Capricious Lestrange is a former educator who loves to write. When brain fog prevented her from writing the fiction and poetry she loves, she turned to blogging and now writes about her life, her health conditions and what she does to keep them in check. She enjoys spending time with her loving husband, her adorable Russian Blue kitty and dabbling in the visual arts when she doesn’t have her nose stuck in a book. Capricious has EDS, MCAS, POTS, CPTSD, and gastroparesis.
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