day TWELVE HUNDRED and FIFTY SIX

an existential fuck

no way to keep dread down
I mean that existentially
I mean that physicallywhen I'm alone
my heart becomes
a separate entity
it tries its damndest
to leap from my throat
from my chest

what leaves me stymied
is the grief, dying country
dying culture, dying economy
no surprises, moribund
corpulent, ossified are all
words for this republic then
now this republic of suffering

what leaves me stymied
is the grief, the numbers
of the dead daily
the lack of empathy
from the true believers
the manchurian candidates
their frothing protests
moloch be praised
moloch be praised

when I see friends
conversation teeters
we vacillate wildly
a little hope, a little dread
nothing for the pain
nothing for the anxiety

as we talk we pause
wait for traction again
the wheels of aching minds
what escapes is a sigh
heavy and weighted
a cry from our collective
organism brain

the force of will
to take another breath
to say another sentence
escapes us, wind rattles
through our teeth
on a page it might look
like ellipsis, like this
...
except longer
........................................
it can only be described
as an existential fuck

fffffuuuuuccccckkkkk
no force in a limp breeze
resignation at the hands
of this time escaping
lost between shores
of what's been, what's coming
of what's failed and what we hope for

I find comfort in camus
as I tread the water of now
I’ll do my best to paraphrase

if life is ruled by death
we should ignore god
and fight like hell against it

--Jason Baldinger