As the subject line says, I wrote a new poem. As usual, this shouldn’t be considered a final version, as I may decide to change any or all of it in future.
My head got stuck in the jaws of anger
today; crazy hijacked my afternoon.
It doesn’t last, I say, it doesn’t last –
and I pretend to listen and believe,
as though I were a creditable source.
And that’s the truth, it doesn’t last – but damn,
it always, always crashes back – and ten
by twenty thousand times, it kicks me down.
But I am sitting here, I am alive.
I try to find some solace in these words,
some meaning in the pain, again, again,
a measure of protection … for next time.
The roaring storm is no more than a sigh
when set against the years that fly away.