SI


i do not cut, trim, chop or slice away
at the indivisible solemn hell life is.
i swallow it whole as one would a pill
they have taken a thousand times.
there is no depth in the claim of a wound
that can parallel the chasm between meaning and
the length of a day of work
or out of work
or a long conversation with a body
and no mind.

i have had all of them.

thank you, friend and foe alike
for you have provided me ample time to
divulge and dissect my soul into pieces
that would not liken to a whole; the parts
lay before you in a cunning feast.

i sought redemption in solace and
believed that the last word had gallantly
dropped, stripped of truth
and sound
and belief.