I ask the universe questions
It never answers back.
Same old situation
Like a worm burrowing through my skull.
Into the rabid electrical storm of my altered brain
Like a trigger seeking a finger.
A nagging gnawing at the edge of a frozen soul
Dressed in darkness, walking black hole
Maw that consumes anything it can
Seeking some long lost sensation
Aching to be found.
Words fall slowly like flakes of snow
Only to hit the ground & melt away
Like they weren’t there at all.
Trudging uphill to a wandering destination
Like a distant mountain it never gets closer
But moves from hill to hill to cliff
Skeleton fever, exhausted insomnia.
Seasonal depression, failure’s fatigue
They all call me lazy ‘cause my work won’t sell
Everything is hazy like a smokestack in hell.
The music is over.
The band is either too drunk or too sober.
I’m tired of trying & lying & putting plans together
If you’d rather be alone go home.
Gazing at the floor, getting high
Thoughts flash through empty eyes
Intrusive ghosts of suicide
That place a revolver
Against my temple & paint my last masterpiece all over the walls.
I don’t want to die but I can’t trust my own mind.
Instead maybe I’ll slam home a hit
In my mainline, maybe it’ll change my mind
For a little bit of time so I can forget
I’m in my thirties & paying an ever growing debt
To the God of Dreams.
-Jack Blare 2023
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