Volatile Mess

My emotions are volatile.
Anger turns to hurt
turns to guilt turns to calm.
And then they take a trip
on the merry-go-round.

Mark my words, but don’t.
They change day-to-day.
Mood change six times a day
dictates their sway.
I don’t mean anymore
what I said yesterday.
The warning has been issued:
Don’t hold me for what I say.

The ghost still walks beside me.
It won’t accept any consolation prize.
It twists and turns my brain cells
and keeps me preoccupied.

I yearn to go to a place far away.
A cabin in the snowy woods.
Or the vast confines of Space.
Well, off I go–for now, my cave is enough.