Sometimes

Sometimes

Sitting in the dark

Too broken to switch on a light

Wondering at the nuts and bolts

Of life

Trailing across the floor,

Rusted bones creaking

In repetitive strain,

It is easy to wish

I believed

In fairy stories.

Writing a poem

Full of sorrow and hope of restitution

When the trumpets call

Doing nothing

But waiting for things to get better

Or worse.

If I believed in the rapture

I could tell myself

I will be forgiven

For being an ashole

Firing a gun

Standing my ground

Just so long

As I read the scriptures.

If there was a god

Why did he invent male pattern baldness

Smelly farts

And haemorrhoids.

Men can be such a sorry bunch

With a stink like Hades

But a woman

Can make a believer

Out of anybody

With half an ounce of common sense.

You don’t need a good book

To know he got that right.

I am Prometheus

Every day I sweat over the same shit

Pushing myself up

And over the same hill

Until fall into bed,

To get torn to pieces

In a bad dream.

Coming apart at the seams

Twisted in sweat

The taste of blood

From a nose bleed

Only to do it all over again.

Nothing good will come of it.

The days all look the same,

Repetition is not insanity,

Expecting difference is.

I remember her laugh

If anything

It was the sweetest sound I ever heard

Other than a lullaby

And the babbling of a baby.

I thank whatever god there might

Or might not be

For allowing me

That small mercy.