soggy cigarillos
in a top jacket pocket
coat made for salty exploration
in the harshness of the arctic
and here’s my pretentious ass
too lazy to check the wash
before i toss it.
the new addiction
is taking hold
right where you’d expect it:
jittery hands
and heavy eyelids
from chronic deprivation
folding up
in nauseated guts
twisting to the anxious.
no time for any breakdowns.
gotta save that shit for lunch.
got places to go
and a fresh flock of peeps
wanting to meet
a dependable tender
to shape up
or defeat
and behold
this new recruit
who signed up
to take the crook
with bookworm skill-set
and quality honors
i’m scared i’ll fuck up.
i’ll forget.
authority alludes me.
i’ve got no right to be the thing
people look to
to be calm
and caring
and knowing.
i failed everybody
who ever needed me.
and now i’m here
standing in front
of bricked-up building, domineering
i wanna be the one you call for
when you’re hurting.
who the fuck am i
to wear that color collar
when i’ve got so much disappointment
at my wayside?
my backbone’s
and the steely reserve
isn’t strong enough
to be up to the task
of reenforcing.
where am i going?
this path is unfolding and
i’m like that steer i once watched
walking into slaughter
i should run but
the road is solid, the walls are tight
and i’ve got no where else for going
but straight.
it feels like
it’s do or die time
but i’m sleep-deprived
with no system set up
to be encouraged by
and i know
this shit shouldn’t be
this dramatic
it was my last pack of smokes
i waterlogged
there’s like a cosmic joke at play here.
Out of all the coping mechanisms
i’ve analyzed
i’ve got nothing
to take the time
to occupy my mind
just thoughts
and i chose to go with
i’m not chill enough
to play out
this fate.
but i’m here.
and i’m walking in.

that’s a positive thing,
just checking.

Our doubts are traitors,
and make us lose the good we oft might win,
by fearing to attempt.”

Jillian wrote this.

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