Staring Blankly

Staring Blankly (PM xxxiii)

I'm trying very hard to concentrate

but I keep drawing a blank,

I can feel I have a fever,

a hundred and two maybe,

I don't have a thermometer.

I can't take another tylenol

because I'll puke,

they are getting expensive and

I've even puked in the sink

and pulled the bigger chunks'

out and tried to get them

back in my stomach,

anything to get rid of that

elusive pain that hides

somewhere between my

heart and my brain.

It never leaves me, though

I am fairly lucky that I

can usually dull it,

with medication,

lying on the couch staring

blindly at a stupid television

for hours on end is

usually my best antidote.

It doesn't matter what's on

as long as I'm being bombarded.

Controlling the levels of bombardment

are easy,

depending on the channel and

volume controls,

an out of reach remote is always

a taste of what hell would be

like,

a never-ending regis and kelly

daring you to put a gun to your

own head and end it all.

Rays of hope can sometimes shine

through on a news channel,

snippets of Pinawa,

Argentina and even Saint John

have the effect of uncovering

my bleeding soul. I can still

remember there were some good times,

good people,

and maybe that some of it

was worthwhile and I wasn't

quite smart enough to

completely fuck it up!

The sun just came out,

piercing its way through

cloud and around concrete

and steel to shed some of

its light on my lonely

existence.

It becomes brighter and I can

see through to the other end of

the dock without my glasses

on as I do always manage to

reaffirm that maybe my

existence is doing some good.

MCC