Letter to a friend

I never think. I just do!
Mostly on auto-pilot. Regretting
my foolish self. Do
you have my answer to

Am I making you crazy?
Am I crazy too?
Nonsensical existence
my answer for you.

I will see you Monday. Another day.
Just like Tuesday and Wednesday.
Thursday through Saturday.
What about Sunday? Who knows?


How can you be strong,
wind whipping you in the face?
You don’t recoil from the sunken bottom of the ship,
not able to skim the surface of the lake.
Left to enter another day
you grip other people’s
feelings. Pulling them above the waves.
Sad music.

Why would I think I deserve
anything better?

I guess it’s not deprivation I’m
gripped by this sickness.
Tied to my chair.
Dreaming’s really useless.
I nose-dive into sadness.
Ingrained circles in the tree.
I will be cut down eventually.


I want you to leave without me.
I make it easy.
I’m not here anymore.
I’m flying high in my head.
My feet
standing in cement.


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