they
say that hell is crowded, yet,
when you’re in hell,
you always seem to be alone.
& you can’t tell anyone when you’re in hell
or they’ll think you’re crazy
& being crazy is being in hell
& being sane is hellish too.
those who escape hell, however,
never talk about it
& nothing much bothers them after that.
I mean, things like missing a meal,
going to jail, wrecking your car,
or even the idea of death itself.
when you ask them,
“how are things?”
they’ll always answer, “fine, just fine…”
once you’ve been to hell and back,
that’s enough
it’s the greatest satisfaction known to man.
once you’ve been to hell and back,
you don’t look behind you when the floor creaks
and the sun is always up at midnight
and things like the eyes of mice
or an abandoned tire in a vacant lot
can make you smile
once you’ve been to hell and back.
Showing posts with label independence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label independence. Show all posts
3/27/20
7/23/19
To Myself - Franz Wright
You
are riding the bus again
burrowing
into the blackness of Interstate 80,
the
sole passenger
with
an overhead light on.
And
I am with you.
I’m
the interminable fields you can’t see,
the
little lights off in the distance
(in
one of those rooms we are
living)
and I am the rain
and
the others all
around
you, and the loneliness you love,
and
the universe that loves you specifically, maybe,
and
the catastrophic dawn,
the
nicotine crawling on your skin—
and
when you begin
to
cough I won’t cover my face,
and
if you vomit this time I will hold you:
everything’s
going to be fine
I
will whisper.
It
won’t always be like this.
I
am going to buy you a sandwich.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)