Perplexed a bit
At the
fundamental inquiry
Do I want to
live?
Iterated respiration,
blood flow and consumption of nutrients
Perpetuates the
question like a parade of commas
Seated in the
waiting room at a government office
Signed in for a
certificate of some sort
To pronounce
punctuation officially, but the point never gets there
Stuck in traffic,
a vagabond, a wild-loose sense of dilly-dally
Banging keyboard
alphabet soup at screens for mission statements
And bank accounts
to rearrange transpose and vomit
Over dignified
capitalist overtures to create, devise, and conquer
As if planning
and realization could comingle on a day bed
In a solarium,
take it easy, meander fulfilled
Like a man who
ate steak for lunch, instead of dinner, or instead of ever
A last rites sort
of meal, that there was something definitive on the precipice
Execution or
congratulations, but all this is confetti of paper-hole punches
Spilled from an
office-supply medieval torture device to segregate a triad
Of circular disks
from a complete sheet, to be left wandering in an Inferno pit
Of wish-wash, only
to be bungled for discard for the janitorial lady
That gets paid
minimum wage and can still muster above minimum effort
Exceeding what my
investment in this career my higher-education
Rewarded me with,
to filter central data from gristle
I can filet a red
snapper and use the bones for stock but I choose to throw it all out
This town, this
country paradise of,
At least I can
pay my mortgage and no one is coming by
I could harvest
nuts here, collect for retirement like a timid ovine clone
Unnatural, complacent,
seeing that I am here for my offspring pretending
That this chest
inflating and deflating is actual breathing
I make grand
plans for New Orleans smelling the death
The gunshot to
the chest as a premonition like a stinger for attempt at escape
Or entering that
toe to the step of claiming my existence from the craw of indifference
Silently I hum to
myself, maybe there, maybe in a quiet evening
I could have a
moment to myself to meet a kindred soul
All of this
rigmarole simply to cease being infinitely alone
Assured that
nothing but loneliness is possible, so why even leave
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