POEM - Country Club Rd

Living to get away from living;

to float in the semi-conscious world

of a brain’s private interior

Suffering long enough for a pay-off;

yet not quite enough suffering to reach

for the nearest cliffside

What kind of a life is this?

  

To take my advice would be madness,

unless you too are insane;

in which case, I say, “Hello stranger.

I know your goddamned heart by heart.

Your spirit feels like a long lost part of me,

and I am talking (again) to the wormhole.

Will you take me somewhere browner,

or will you lull me into an atomized

deconstruction?”

I’m supposed to care;

I no longer do

I exist to decrease the suffering of others,

and wither like a forsaken flower

I was once so certain of the sun’s

rapturous love for me

Now I do but faithlessly pray these nights

won’t always be endless

  

I saw the monstrous beauty of our local star,

but it only beheld me in forgettable glimpses

So when the blank darkness comes,

I will welcome it with relief

There was never a destination

for this traveler;

she spoke my name as though

it was irritating slang,

and I’m the only one who fought against

that lacking definition