Tonight my book is meaningless
Tonight my book is meaningless;
Poems leer at me from the paper,
malice stretched across the page.
Tonight these words will not enrich me.
Tonight I put my work aside.
It has become empty, hollow.
Tonight there will be no conversations,
no dialogue, witty or otherwise.
Tonight no movie is worth watching,
No game could be worth playing.
Masturbation would be futile,
annoying.
Tonight I will find no pleasure
in my possessions or activities.
Tonight I am simply lonely.
Tonight I will watch television.
When Past the Point of Talking Shit
Can I
be motivated
to return unto
the breach?
Is this
an opportunity
for violence?
What could
make a veteran
foam at the mouth
What
could make
an officer
pick up
a private's gun
knowing the
Small comfort
in any sort of success
as I run
my finger
over my
old scars
My experience
clamors
like a talking
car alarm
warning me
that I will
find no
satisfaction
But a gauntlet,
once thrown,
demands
to see a
fist
And it's too
late now
to live
a life
of peace
So I put
myself in
danger
seeking an
unworthy
victory
Just to
let you know
I still can.
