why does
the world have
to look so
beautiful sometimes...
sunlight filters
through trees
kids fling water
up from the creek
to catch light in air
in my ear
smooth
spanish
groove
and it all
makes me
want to cry
because i can't appreciate
a moment
everything beautiful
is so f l e e t i n g
everything hard
and hateful
lingers
and sticks
you can't just
******* have something
good.
you can't.

during a melt
d
o
w
n

in college
i saw a counselor
that told me to face my fear of
the worst possible events happening
use my voice to project the probabilities out loud
would i lay down and die? doubtful. say what you would do.
it doesn't seem so bad when it's specific...
it's a cloud of random doom that seems unthinkable.
you realize it's all do-able
a little at a time
you will survive

but now                                            
that is where i live              
in the                              
subterranean gloom
with well thought through
foreknowledge of the worst
possible events
and my likely
miserable reactions

so i watch my life
c oll Aps e
and i want to
laugh hysterically

*******. *******. *******. and *******.                                              
what the **** am i supposed to do?                                                    

reinvention is jolly,
they say
Ha!

Bah - it was just a job
another will just POP up
any moment
HA!
                                                      ­  (someone seriously help me,
i'm laughing so hard i'm choking)

Gah!
who needs a mate?
not me!

solitary confinement
sure pumps out poetry
in extreme quantity,
this i will confess

solitude is good
i like quiet
  music  
movies    
writing
    reading
   wine

but pray tell,
do you realize
how many hours
there are
in
one
*******
day?
when your purpose is
torn from you?
and you are left to wander
the earth alone
to find a new life mission
or the least miserable substitute?

            have you felt the                          
    gut-wrenching longing
alone in bed
in
(utter silence)
night
after
night
after
night?
not for love past
but for love new
for lust
for touch
to not feel alone
in the world

at times
i feel like a
person made of
the thinnest glass
with some nasty creature
perched on my shoulder
laughing horribly
sharpest pin always touching me
hammer always raised in the air
ready to strike.

whatever.

you're going to tell me everything is going to be fine, right?

yeah.