Tag Archives: career

Nevermore, Nevertheless

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There’s got to be more to this life
than the same mug I wash
and use
and let dry with a brown ring in the bottom
every day.
More than the kiss of coffee
to say “good morning” to me
on what is really
much more like an average morning.
av
er
age
…such a word was never more itself
to say.
There’s got to be more to this
than an expensive black leather chair
that is not at all comfortable,
and which smushes
my firm, beautiful ass
into something flat
that now has actual stretch marks
from being so
not-stretched in this
same
abnormal
sitting position for eight or more hours
every day.
I haven’t even had babies yet.
Because of course,
where would I find the time to
MAKE a life,
in this space
with no space
where I live
in which I can’t even
HAVE a life.
There’s got to be more to this
than three devices surrounding me
at all times
clicking and beeping and demanding
my attention and
immediate response
and that their next requests be done
by yesterday.
There has got to be more than a to-do list
so long it has me
listless,
and see now, that is TRULY
ironic.
There has got to be more than
these nights being what they are,
filled with a room always
too hot
or too cold
…or maybe that’s my mood…
or too loud
or too quiet
…or maybe that’s my mind…
punctuated with snores and
the tick of the minutes
as I lose another one
to restlessness.
Oh, please,
there has GOT to be
rest…
There has got to be more to this
than hills that are too hard
to enjoy climbing,
even though they
didn’t used to be
and roads that are
too long
to run,
even though they didn’t used to be
and a woman that is too
leeched from
by everyone else
to take care of the
one person
taking care
of everyone else,
and who is too spent
to spend
and too given
to give
and too tired
to tire,
but she didn’t
used to be.
There’s got to be more than this,
than one more way
to try
to earn
the stuff
to pay for
the stuff
to make life easy
enough
to live it well.
And there’s got to be more
than a wait
always waiting
for more,
the more that will fix everything,
or the more that will allow us to be okay
with never having more.
All we need is more time to
wait for that
more.
There’s got to be more because
I need more
than a vent
more
than a window,
more
than a door, even
how about no walls at all?
no ceiling?
Because climbing the ladder
they say
means having a wall
to lean it against
but what is it worth
if all you want to do
when you get to the top
is jump?
And sure,
you wish you could fly,
but they only taught you to climb.
They gave you rungs,
not wings.
So you can’t take
flight
on your own
now,
even if you wanted to.
You missed your window,
your door to escape
and there is no such thing as thinking
outside the box
once it’s been sealed.

There’s got to more to all of this than an unfinished poem
Or prose, for that matter,
since it has no rhyme,
more to all of this than a
bunch of words in an a poorly punctuated mess
that people will read
and read into
but to which no one
will have the answer.

Because of course there is more
but no-one knows
what
or where
or when that is
or who to get it from.
All we know is that
everyone
has it
except us.

That more.

And what if
what we
really want is
less,
and we can’t have
that either,

more or less.

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