Wear the day on your face
Pieces of tape holding together
ripped up fragments
of a page
parts missing
enough to see what was once whole
it isn't as cold out here
as we like to pretend
the power was out for an entire
day and a half
People complained
about the food that they had to throw out
they still had shelter
running water
it was calm at night
moonlight filtered through blinds
mingling with burning candles
they call me Sir
or Mister
I am more used to this
than when I was younger
I have reached the point
where that is how I will be
addressed as from this point forward
they don't ask for my ID at the bars
nearly as often as they used to
for the longest time I wanted to be older
to be treated as such
wishes do come true
how sad a thing that can be
I am fine with being alone
in my room
without electricity
I can entertain myself
with a book
and minimal light
I can dream about
everything
and nothing
contemplate
my thoroughly
inadequate mind
and limited physical abilities
consciousness bound
to a decaying form
John Coltrane did not die
he changed forms
tired
trying to stifle a yawn
and boredom
succeeding at neither
waiting for Somnus
finding him utterly lacking
wondering why he lags
on our appointments
a shame
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