Days Too Full

The calendar cracked as I tore the page—

a flutter like wings caught between teeth.

Days spilled over with black ink:

appointments, reminders, deadlines stacked like stones.

Each box a little jail,

a crowded room pressing in,

notes scrawled in frantic loops,

cross-outs bleeding through.

I stared at the mess—too much,

a world that wouldn’t stop spinning,

a paper trap tight with too many demands.

And still, the days kept filling,

stuffed to bursting,

a claustrophobic throb

beneath thin paper skin.