So when I am in the bathroom and whether the light bulb is rose, burnt, bleach, mismatched or stark I always notice a gathering of blue veins surge heavily under the skin of my arms, thighs, knuckles and wrists like a new ravine is awaiting new possibilities to overwhelm old injuries
I think how I must disappoint them all
How much sicker and sadder the eras and thicker the carnage has gotten
How swollen and reddened foreshadows another evening’s finale
Bluish and violet discoloring the am and pm
Darks eclipsing what time is asleep and how much longer till the next season
The years dispensing next time the first the second the present the last
Encountering some foolish, foreign amateurs a battle right up my alley
The chair focuses and transfers actuality
So I will be able to get up tomorrow morning
Now I sit on the couch into the bed
So I will awake for the dog and stay up in the meantime
The house is the presence where my mind imagines how life will cycle or cease to start over again
The veins in my knees and my palms never are as detectable as the veins below the knuckles stretching seaweed blue chlorine to the elbows
Will they burst open on their own one day or wait for an old injury to ajar
When I appear in the bathroom mirror
I think my face articulates the clearest
No matter how many hours I gain leverage
The bulb nevertheless stalls any thorough light from evolving
And I think the lifelines will trap me before any changes happen
And I think
What a disappointment to all
To stop the bloodletting from occurring
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mon. sept. 26, 2011