The Day I Died

It was a disaster, as I had more or less expected. It was like asking a dog to fly. And yet again, I had to endure the incredulous stare and the patronizing smile that set one on cold fire. With his subconscious blasts of frustration directed towards my direction at my ineptness, I could only wish it ended earlier than it was supposed to. The gaze was unintentionally withering, although polite on the surface. I swore that the incident would not recur.

It rained at my funeral, although it would have been better if it had been pouring.

The Evening Descends

The battle rages, as I desperately sought the words that I thought I knew well. This confused state of debilitation corresponds the internal turmoil that I thought was over. My mind blanks, withdraws into the familiar shell of darkness. It is a familiar state bordering sickness and wellness.

The evening descends, as the sorrow reigns in its pure, unadulterated form, I reach out to the connective states of sick-wellness in my previous modes of life. I am unsuitable for anything. What would I do?

Doppelganger

A man in his 20s
Was found dead in the rivers of Clarke Quay
Is that me
Is that him
As I stare into that visage
As it takes on my mug
Who is it then, who is typing out the words here
Who is it then, who is lying so dead over there
And where is here
And where is there
As we continue
To stare
Time stops