Blacklagoonadoom
JCD Kerwin

Sometimes I stay awake;
I stay awake staring at the wall—
staying, staring, waiting
for the other me to take my head
and pull me into concrete,
paint and fiberboard, and
take over so I don’t have to
pretend that I’m okay looking at sunspots
on my winter skin, hoping that
the summer sun will come
and turn it to the darker shade
that I like better.

But it never comes;
no face explodes, screaming from white walls.
I just turn into an insomniac
and start to smoke my fingers because
I forgot I never bought a pack
of cigarettes.
And my eyes start to sink and I start to wish
I never was born at all;
it’d sure be easier than
pretending I knew
what the hell I was
really supposed to do.

Dec, 2011