Well here I am again.
Must be 5 pm again.
Same damn train.
Same damn distance.
Same damn sentences,
locked into rhythm.
Same damn pen.
Same damn people.
Same damn feeling
of mediocrity and never
quite equal.
Same damn hands,
shaking with energy⎯
this is what my pills
do to me.
Same old shirt.
Same old tie.
Same old holes in my shoes.
Same damn papers people
holding in front of their face.
Same damn space
with someone’s crotch
in my face.
Some business man moves, and
I can breathe again.
Same damn Tuesday evening.
Same damn therapy session.
Same Sense One
ranting and raving.
Same pain.
Same gut feeling.
Same headphones,
playing songs that either
put me together
or make me feel alone.
Soon I’ll be home.
Same old story.
3-story apartment.
No dog barking.
Dirty carpet.
Dishes and laundry.

At least I get to see Lisa
put her arms around me.


Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. This week’s poem is from his latest collection Train of Thought: Poems From the Red Line, now available for purchase.