The Monsoon’s End
Change is never easy
Not even little things
I spent the summer
In libraries – coffee shops –
Places I felt comfortable
Summer ended – students returned –
Each place was crowded
The comfortable spots gone
Feeling lost and exiled
I wanted one place
I could call mine
No money to rent
Or lease an office
No sanctuary – no retreat –
Even the taste of
Coffee lost its pleasure
Sad Thoughts on Christmas Eve
It’s been a couple weeks
At the least
Since I showered
My beard grew long
It was extra itchy
I cut it all off
But still have not showered
I’ve mostly been home
With my cats
Callie and Coco
The only two creatures
Who offer me affection
I haven’t eaten much
Other than bread and rice
And free meals from work
Dishes have been in the
Sink for over a week
I should clean out
The litter boxes
Or the cats will pee
On my bed out of spite
Things on my To-Do list
Are getting done but
It takes hours to
Work up motivation
Sometimes I wander
For hours because
I don’t want to be
Anywhere but I don’t
want to be home either
I just keep walking
Where do you go when
You don’t feel like you
Belong anywhere
I don’t want to
End my life but
I don’t want to
Be alive anymore
There’s no satisfaction
There’s no pleasure
I lose interest in
Intimacy with myself
Because no one else
Wants to be
Intimate with me
I see compassion
From others but
No affection
I don’t know what it means
To be confident anymore
Things always end the same
For some reason I keep
Trying – never give up
Never surrender
If there’s no affection
And no intimacy
Am I really living
Am I alive at all
I see myself in the mirror
With dark, sunken eyes
How have I avoided
Drugs and alcohol
I keep writing
Something inside me says
My story needs to be told
But I have many stories
And can’t tell them all
I can keep going until
I run out of stories
And the stories will never end
My purpose is to share
My stories even when it
Feels like no one is listening
And eventually I’ll be gone
But my stories will keep me alive
My stories are my legacy
That is immortality
But for now I am
Alone with my stories
Waiting for someone
Anyone to listen
I just want to be heard
From the poetry collection Cats, Coffee, Catharsis.
James Pack 