"I don't understand you seem so happy"

          "Didn't you go to school to learn how to deal with people  like me? I project what people want to see."  

                        "Yeah but look at you, you understand why you're acting this way, you can logically decipher it, you don't even need me sitting across from you taking notes or telling you what you need to do, you already know. But you still want to die. You still sit across from me every week with new scars, new stories and I want to help you but how do I help someone who already knows?"

                  "Ok, but that's my problem. I can logically see what is happening, I get it, I'm ******* depressed, we're all ******* depressed and we all die, and inevitably the happiness I feel will disappear and worse things will come my way ----
          and god forbid if worse things don't come my way, I'll live a meaningless, numb, long life. Doesn't that thought keep you up at night? Doesn't that just epically ******* up? It's all I can think about. And if I go home and finish the job I started 3 years ago and actually end it, I will have lived a short,unfulfilling life that left nothing on this planet I was proud of, except for the grief the people who love me will feel  
..........and well. I don't want that."


"Yeah, you're right."

"****. So what do I do?"

"You keep living and endure it."

salty
tears race down the side of my
freckled nose
which will get there first?
to
the point on my face
the sun has kissed
the most

temple
burns
eyes
drowning in fear
my skin
yearns for a minuscule buss of the sun
the warm wind on my cheeks
the sienna light of the sky

my head
residues upon a pillow
as if it’s been detached
and laid to rest
no longer apart of my nature

what if
the sun is our oxygen  
and we spend all
our nights
searching
for a breathe of fresh air

The journey now is much akin
to barren long left towns
where tumbleweed drifts aimlessly
between the old ramshackle  homes,

with slow despondent footfalls
along deserted dusty streets,
blackened windows and boarded doors
echo all of life’s defeats,

a woebegone and broken soul
with no hope or chance to find
a way to get back what was lost
since the passing of the mind,

and with the darkness comes the cold night air
coupled with that vacant Dementia stare.

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Major Haiku (7-9-7)

The dance of lovers in heat
mysterious communication
Pandora's box of feelings
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Standard Haiku (5-7-5)

Green leaves on the tree
pretty in the summer sun
light accenting hues
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Minor Haiku (3-5-3)

Time is here
fleeting passing gone
temporal
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Mini Haiku (1-3-1)

Bird
on the wing
fly
<>



© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)