Not enough pain
He whispered
Not enough of this and
Not enough of that
Was it something I did?
Or something I didn't do?
Was there a step I could have taken?,
Or a step in another direction?
There are so many ways to get through the agony
So many signs to follow, sounds to listen too
Why is it that these days all these signs lack dust
Show no mystery
Our lives are mapped out, clean, risk free
The easy connection of the world around me
Is killing me silently, methodically, knowing and unknowingly
But always, consistently killing me
Yet I continue to use this machine
These methods towards a death of a thing that is seen as obsolete
A thing I cannot name
But is somewhere deep inside of me
Perhaps a soul that is covered but one day, if lucky,
Will be dusted off
Hooked in the mouth, cooked, and served
To myself at some table
With no one around me
But a page eager and bare