even dread
has its excitement.
wake to dread,
yes,
and wake to
excitement of being
alive.
so much
possibility in this
nothingness!
still i suffer as still
i hope; a cup
of coffee with
an old friend,
the absurdity of
modern communication,
sending out
electric fingers
into the ether,
hoping
to find the texture
of connection.
a few hours in
and excitement,
hope,
have succumbed
to deadening fatigue
of dread,
disappointment.
the lolling lull
of middling day’s
flaccid middle,
it stretches
when one wakes
too early.
morning,
with its gun-metal
dreams, its
violently rotating
chambers.
a boat
in the channel
moans its horn
to the fog.
a knife
on the magnet
mounted to the
kitchen wall,
gleams benignly
in the undecided
light.
zakschafer.com 