Am I ignoring
The miserable truth
How riding this pain
Keeps me going
As evidenced by
Honest feelings
Being easy to write
Once again?

Their certain demands
Are now met
Through repeated misuse
Of each memory
When twisted in thought
Always anxious
After silent retreats
Holding back

During months left alone
Having nightmares
And journaling dreams
Even better
Than any such phrase
I could conjure
Would describe before grief
Came so close

After watching my life
Still unfold
Like tattered remains
Hiding pictures
On pages we’ve torn
Fighting demons
Soon coming right back
Taking shape

Since clawing with rage
Killing blessings
Seeking solace it learned
Was too precious
For losers whose prose
Demands hardship
Where happiness means
Lacking voice

If seeing those near
Often suffer
Brings words beyond brinks
Barely voyaged
Getting high off that fall
Growing steeper
Not worried how hope
Never lands.

• J. Pigno