stillfugue

I made note of the hippy
seeming genuinely friendly
when months ago, I felt de-
spised. I go there too often,
and part of his salary
comes from mine, but today,

marching slowly, feeling extinction
beat down on me, cheering
me to push the deceleration, and
the wicked sinus pressure came,
the air burning my skin, I was crying,
wondering why it was a lunch period
that stole my spirit, my will to live,

but in a swamp of honesty,
I knew it is because I’m not,
not doing the deal, I’m not being
who I want to be so I’m wasting
a life in a pool of worthlessness,
ready to quit, but I go back,

go back to work and suit
my self to go on living with
this meaninglessness. And I’m not
broken with this verbiage,
knowingly repeating it, but
it’s better to crash in these
words than to hang
from a tree.

.