To Whom Nothing Concerns,...

I’ve seen no promised refinement in life’s relentless rock-tumbler.
No shimmer here.

I know nothing of lasting peace, of harmony, of forgiveness, just further punishment for having searched for such foolish things.

At this point I am embarrassed for not seeing it sooner. Niché was right; “Life is a big nothing”, and to pretend that there is meaning only serves to hurt everyone in my path.

So I’ll sit with my list, or maybe I’ll stand, I’m not there yet so I can’t say for sure. I’ll go down my list over and over, until I am– for the last time– disgusted by reading my own pedestrian writing.

I’ll do this, while my love is hard at work, doing whatever job it is she has at the time.

I’ll do this, while my two daughters are busy in school with their various studies & adolescent gossip.

I’ll do this, while I should be hard at work.

I’ll do this, with the gift of a courageously high blood-alcohol level.

I’ll do this, while some family wonders if I am well.

I’ll do this, while others think nothing of me.

I’ll do this, while my dogs are hungry.

I’ll do this, thinking of “them”.

I’ll do this, with the purpose of forgetting.

I’ll do this, to protect those whom I love.

I’ll do this, and be accused of “acting selfishly”.

I’ll do this, while the universe doesn’t even notice me.

Words fail me.
Descriptions elude me.
Scars cover me.
Release consumes me.
Death doesn’t scare me.
“We” are not me anyway.
So I keep my promise to Death, and welcome the bereaved.
I’ll continue my journey,
I’m just star dust anyway.

I can’t think of “who”, or how, “they” will find me.

I can’t think of what will become of what is left of me.

I can’t think of who will miss me, if anybody.

I can’t think like a napping child, reluctant to sleep missing out on play.

I will only think of PAIN.