i tried on
a new shirt
it fitted ok
not perfectly
by any means
but well enough
               for its price
it would be suitable
for the occasion
i suppose

it could perhaps
be a little longer
as it is liable
to ride up
and reveal my stomach
if i raise my arms
it's also
a little tight
across the chest
if i'm honest
and
now that I think about it
i'm not certain
it actually
suits me

i could just wear
one of my other shirts
that would probably
be more comfortable
and would
save spending
needlessly
there's the old blue one
after all;
i haven't worn that
for awhile

this must be
the correct train
there was not
another option
it was waiting
        on the expected platform
it departed
        at the expected time
and
it headed
        in the expected direction

despite what I might tell myself
i remain on edge
at every juncture
        of the journey
every announcement
sets me on edge
every stop
sees me checking
        double-checking
that this is
the anticipated station
that i am on course

even when assured
of heading
the right way
there is no relaxation
instead
a countdown is commenced
of each station
to be visited
before reaching
that final destination
as each station
is passed
another count is completed;
numbering
one stop less
than the previous

but still
i will lose track
of where i am
of how far i need to go
panic will set in
blinded by doubts
and undue regrets
i will question
it all

it just doesn't
come naturally
there's an awkwardness
a failure
to accurately convey
what needs
to be
conveyed

either that
or uncontrolled words
twist sentences
contort the sentiment
that was intended

feigning the expected
mimicking those witnessed
bought success
in the past
but
under closer scrutiny
the charade
would be discovered

for now though;
this silence
has drawn on
far
     too
           long
without response

another chance
wasted

even as adults
given two magnets
we will strive
to force
each matching pole
together
with all
that can be mustered

we learnt
from a young age
that this would not
be possible
and yet
despite this
we would still
push
and
push
until the tips
finally touched
only
to burst apart
as soon as
our grip
was relaxed

it seems we understood
but
would not accept

there is no point
in trying to force
a connection;
it cannot
and will not
last

i bought a chair
that i thought was
exactly
what i was looking for
exactly
what i needed

the style
           the shape
                        the colour
ergonomic perfection

that something so simple
could align with
my needs
my wants;
i was surprised
i admit
it caught me off guard

but in time
the comfort i thought
i had found
was found wanting
dissipated

adjustments were made
and support toyed with
plumped up
or reduced
as seemed necessary
only to achieve
further discomfort
and anger

perhaps this desire
(or desperation)
to find
an idea of perfection
dulled my senses
forced
what did not truly fit

i have now spent
more time
seated
upon the floor
considering a replacement;
unable to commit
to discarding
this imperfect throne

i have no confidence
in finding anything better
and will likely continue
second guessing myself
as i second guess myself

we are the cat
that is both
alive
       and
            dead
but this box
is too small
there is not room
in this state of flux

one way
or
another
a truth
must be established;
either
open the box
to see for certain
or accept
what you believe
could be true

bury the box
forget the alternative
move beyond
the internal
       eternal
dissonance

by the time
we see the light
it has already
died

I'm trying
not to let that
carry
too much meaning
but
it's getting more difficult
these days

celebrate the light
allow it to permeate
to dazzle
and blind

nothing is gained
from looking ahead
into its darkness
instead
celebrate its light;
that it reached you
at all

though it may have been brief
think
on what was gained
a light
         a warmth
                        a life

root of all evil
a man | hanged in every home
                look in the mirror

the best has come and
gone—burned, never to return:
ashes in an urn.