—IT ALL FEELS SO FAR AWAY

 

 

All-time Low

 

This morning I’ve

decided it’s okay to

not to be okay,

to be sullen and forlorn,

on the cusp of depressed,

wallowing in a manmade tarpit,

counting every spider

in the window,

each hanging from their

homespun noose acrobatically,

maybe a dozen of them,

and though their industriousness

is impressive, it’s enough

to make me even sadder,

more hopeless, hitting an

all-time low, deeper than

any casket or sunk ship where

the bones of ancient sailors

clang around the hull,

confusing fish, upsetting the ocean,

tapping a new encryption

one can only decipher if

you’ve given yourself license

to swim boldly with the misery,

let the tide drown you before you

have the chance to kill yourself first.