I am in control

the sound of rain reminds me:
I am in control.

it could be the cat brushing against this laptop
or the second finished novel in two days
or the evening spent high in the redemption of
good, solid friendships
or the mystique that tomorrow always brings
when it’s a weekday

it could be the lingering self-doubts I have about my own sanity
or the ruckus I allow my mind to take me to  in those / these low times
or the wilting ability I sometimes have for
self-preservation
or the cherished fleeting moment of self-confidence

and then a splash on the road not far below reminds me:
I am in control.

it could be the essential salvation
of external confirmation of ability
or the long-winded way I have described these circumstances

or the small, tiny efforts I made to remind myself
of my duties as a friend
or the limited quantities of illicit drugs that remain
flowing through this blood, like well-intentioned oxygen bubbles

it could be the way the pauses in my writing
are like water droplets off a waterfall:
mist long before the pool below

or the sheer level of focus it takes
for someone to always be reminding himself
of what it is to be someone else
or the hysteria one can generate so internally
over the anxious moments of solitude
or the simplistic existentialist pleasure I gather
from being so fucking aware of it all

and then a roar of a wet tire in the rain outside reminds me:
I am in control.