Another day
Wasted on waiting,

Avoiding all trace
Of expression,

As the poetry
Sits in my stomach
Growing rife
With nauseous disease

Which churns
Each festering verse
Through repulsive whims
As they spasm

While agony builds
Deeper meaning
Hidden so deep
It gets lost –

Abandoning voice
Like belief,

Finding my God
Always questioned

Who employs such ills
Through obsession
When denying that dream
For too long

By compulsions grand
Though divisive
Inside my soul
Feeling empty
And denying words
Getting lonely
Deriding their choice
Keeping faith.

Religion can’t cure
Certain things
Where fear has told
Better stories
Than promised hope
Chasing glory
Most would assume
Does exist,

After death
Expels every reason
Worth creating art
Being idle –

Worried heaven itself
Never answers
But instead
Forces sickness to speak.

Why worry ourselves
Finding roles,

Or requiring work
Staying busy,

Since tomorrow hangs
Ever nearer
Soon threatening life
Via age –

One dangerous phrase
From fate’s laugh,

Facing chapters closed
Needing endings,

Seeking legacies
Hardly accepted –

Now become just lines
Left behind.

• J. Pigno