A new fountain
to gather round
a new well
from which to draw up a bucket,
lower it down
pull up water for your life.
So a gadget saved me,
what of it?
You have not even been saved,
you laugh at my attempt to die
I laugh at your attempt to live
but you are dying
and deny it
or do not know it
a sickness rooted in ignorance,
there’s more shame there
than with me.
I cannot sleep
the moon is bright
the television smiles for me,
I cannot think
the words don’t mean
what i once thought they did,
I cannot focus
outward or in,
where do I cast my gaze?
I’m walking down
a double yellow line
it straightens for miles
till the sky meets the road
I cannot see the end.
The field, the street, I walk
and think myself into a culdesac.
These thought patterns
all cornfields in a maze.