April 19, 2021

109/365

some nights assault you
with the overwhelming
dread that comes from
trying to find
meaning
or beauty
or purpose
in any of this.

back bent
eyes squinting mean
brain churning
fingers at the ready:

another day in
the succession of days
like a languishing parade
even the participants  
are tried of watching.

the shear boredom
of it all
becomes obvious
when you’ve chosen
the challenge of
trying to decorate this
life with poetry.

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