I’m sitting on my stoop next to an almost empty beer.
And I’m cold, alone, and honest throughout.
But I don’t understand what it is I fear.
And I’m lost. What is this all about?
The pavement stares back at me.
Insultingly empathetic.
It seems to glare at me.
You’re fucking pathetic.
And I wish, wonder, and wander.
Just inches from my gate.
But there’s no room to ponder.
How is this my fate?
How self-righteous I’ve become.
Thinking that I must matter.
Now I will succomb,
but I wouldn’t rather…