ballpoint pen 12x18 cms june 3- 19 by Norman J. Olson |
As the years pass me by
And lie died beside the road
I long to lie down with them
But something makes me walk on.
Sometimes
I make an effort.
I open the blinds,
I comb my hair,
I take a walk while the sun is lit,
I have a drink with coworkers,
I call a friend and have a talk,
But mostly I do not.
Night after night
I think about things
And I see into my heart.
I see
People just get uglier.
Even me.
Nothing satisfies.
All that is wanted is a purpose
And the ones I love.
I have none of that.
Knowing where she is.
Knowing her unwillingness
And her unhappiness.
Knowing there would never be a day
Our kisses became rote.
There is an emptiness so vast inside
That I try to shovel whatever I can
With this teaspoon
And just feel sickness
At the sound of the echo
When the sad little spoonfuls
Hit the bottom.
The years keep passing
And I want to just stay with a few
Of the good nights back there,
Close my eyes and remain.
Sleep comes and I don’t fight it –
It is escape from thought
Yet the promise of waking up
To another day the same
Until I don’t wake up,
Finally.
Most suicides are reported otherwise.
*****
fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to John Tustin's published poetry online.
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