Just Awake

I don’t know the world as it is. Even yesterday I could have told you. But today things escape me. Music falls through me and doesn’t catch on anything. Some days I wish I could jump from the Washington Avenue Bridge. Other days I just want to sleep and never wake up, or else wake up just when a good TV program is coming on. But mostly I am just awake and scrawl through the tilting world at things mostly unreal, but still harmful to me. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t even dream anymore. Dreamless for three years and two months. I don’t even know what that means. But it’s probably not good. I miss the days when I was passionate enough to love one author and exclude the world, and sit in their poetry for months on end and never come out until I had exhausted myself with words, drowned in words. Died even. I guess maybe I’m just bored. I tell my niece all the time that only boring people get bored. But I don’t care anymore what it means that I’m bored. It is enough to feel the lack. How my soul slumps in the betweens of things I can’t connect. It has to be enough even if it isn’t.