depression and boredom
mark my days
like bruises.
i am inveterate
in my propensity
to complain.
a weak
and malcontented
creature.
my proclivity for abuse
is banal,
mediocre. there is also strength
and goodness
in my footfall.
perhaps
part of the nothingness
i seek
will grant me freedom
to be. without
compulsory analysis. maybe
this jittery panic
is what it feels like
to be
at cocoon’s translucent
edge. cracking. unfurling
into something
different. or;
feed for waiting fish.
zakschafer.com 