“Scars” © Bonnie Matthews Brock

 

Life Stains—Truer Words Never Stated

What’s the big deal about suicide? If I
were to leave this cozy little rock by
my own choice—

So what?

Maybe I’m in pain— (physically &emotionally).
Maybe I’m bored.
Maybe I’m tired.
Maybe I’m a Leo (Sorry Ian Gillan)

I practiced hanging myself the other
day—the safety net of others who think
like I do.

Still, no one will bear witness to my demise.
It’s none of their fucking business.
My wife? I love her very much, but
I cannot pass this awful blackness to her
on some sort of business tray.

Dead is dead—
No more, no less.

By disease, old age, or
by one’s own hand.

The desire to die.
The good/evil of the decision
only matters in scattered dogma.
Saddened eulogies.

—

Souls are dead.
At least mine is.
How many people have I’ve known in my life?
Who are they?
What do they seek?
What are their pleasures?
Fears?

—

Is it my business to know?
Is it their business to know me?
My love for Laura is real.
It is my being that is fake.

No houses really surround me.
Only clay figures, that eventually fall
into a pile of sand.

My reality is false beyond the reach of my fingers.

I cannot comprehend what sight does for others.

What would they see if they were me?
Nobody can be totally clean in this walk through.

Not even God.

Hood up, head lowered.
Looking down at the sidewalk.
Simple? Seems a chore.
Survival in the open field—radiant to
those who choose not to understand.

Dark, dank crevices of my being.
Sad, pathetic individual, who denies
the trials of the world.

Instead, leaning into the four
walls for comfort.
For solace,
For echoed companionship…

I love my wife
but hate the city.

Because, truthfully—the streets, buildings,
cars that motor by,
ignored bystanders

do not exist.

—

Books offer little hope—only if
A writer envisions what I am
afraid to admit.

Years of life are a count
to nothingness.

Black, blind, burrowed
in
the earth’s soil—gone from
phase of evolution.

Give this presence fancy questions
to chew on, study fitful answers that
are discussed in existential, post-modern, and
non-enduring classrooms.
Theories of fear…
Fear of end…

Prayers for the misfits of non-believers –who
see the skies drop to the ground.
the seas, emptied into soot, until the
inhabitants are parched—dry, brittle, corpses.

—

I don’t know who your mother was Jesus?
But I sure have seen the poor, pitiful whores
in their frugality of choices.

Money is the root of all evil?
Now, life is the scream of who’s left.

Until extinguished…
Until the flames cannot even be felt.

—

I am close to this honest rebellion.
A discourse we have no choice to
prevent—no custody of spiritual, of kindness

of good.

Squashed.
Alone with your thoughts—which, in all honesty
is a torture sentence upon itself.
We sing, but the silence remains deafening.

—

I lay on my bed
watching the igloo melt,
no way to stop the water
drowning the spirit of
an
inevitable

inevitable…

Finish.

 

A former collegiate offensive lineman and football coach for 26 years, Dan Provost’s poetry has been published both online and in print since 1993. He is the author of 17 books/chapbooks. His latest, Finding Pessoa was released in October, 2023 by Alien Buddha Press. Dan also has a collection of poems, All in a Pretty Little Row, published by Roadside Press which debuted in November 2023. His work has been nominated for The Best of the Net three times and has read his poetry throughout the United States. He lives in Keene, New Hampshire with his wife Laura, and dog Bella.

Bonnie Matthews Brock is a Florida-based photographer, as well a school psychologist. She loves hiking the urban and woodland trails of “anywhere” (and pausing often to shoot photos) with her very patient husband (and often collaborator), Ted. Her images have been featured on the covers of magazines such as Ibbetson Street, Wild Roof Journal, Poesy Magazine, Humana Obscura, and Arkansas Review; as well as on the pages of publications such as Oddball Magazine, Ember Chasm Review, Beyond Words Literary Magazine, Beaver Magazine, and Lateral. Her works are archived at institutions such as Poets House NYC, Brown University, and Harvard University.