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what should i write for today?

the silence that follows
signals more than just words on a page would dictate.
say.
could.

my life so far has been an open book
if anyone cared to listen.
i’ve made pain my frisson –
like that mediocre song by that horrible band,
held-over from the last i let slip through my hands.
i’m sitting on my office chair
on the blanket it covers to catch the sweat and hair
& shit of the times i couldn’t help yours truly,
facing another empty page that degrades into self-study

but
in my mind
i stand on the edge looking out on a horizon i’ve sowed
of derogation and doubt, and if i
jump, then it’s the end of me –
i know it is –
because every time is the last when you pray and pray
and it still doesn’t go away.
grin and bear it, or go away.
that’s it.
i blink

and now i’m in bed again, but it may as well be a crib.
i dribble self-pity on my bib,
ruminating on my two choices while there doesn’t look
like anything is going on behind
desensitized eyes.

contemplating for years in a fenced-off pasture

until i’m dead
or in tears.

//jf 1.22.2022

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