crossed minds

You should do it.

You shouldn’t do it.

You should do it.

You shouldn’t do it.

Why can’t you make up your mind?

Rain has been crumbling

inside my home for three

and a half weeks,

wanting to know

every inch

of it as if they were hired

to renovate the early 1800s home.

“Sorry for the mess,” I say

as The Endless Well walks in

with a slightly crooked smile.

“No worries,” she says

as she takes off her shoes,

then walks in

as if dead roaches

scattered around the entryway.

The house is nearly empty.

The clock ticks and tocks

on the wall. My mind

is surprisingly clean.

The Endless Well sits on the black leather couch.

You should change the trajectory of your career.

You should begin working on the short story collection.

Maybe you’re doing

something

wrong in your career.

You should change the genre of your podcast.

You should stack your schedule.

How about starting a new poetry collection?

You should quickly release a series.

The Endless Well spits

out her words like

a poisonous snake

sinking its teeth

into the ankle

of an unsuspecting adult

sitting in the sand

as they stare into the distance.

Then she leaves.

You should do it.

You shouldn’t do it.

You should do it.

You shouldn’t do it.

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