Like the satisfying struggle
to cut through an old credit card
with barely adequate scissors
I tussle with my thoughts,
wrestling back on the reins.
Pulling in the possibilities,
cutting my ties with the past,
allowing more room for cool dark syrup
to flow through my head and body.
My compulsion to distort the flow of time
by living in a borrowed future
can be momentarily snipped
so I fall bravely into now.