Thursday, April 19, 2018

Mental Health

It’s no secret
Been out to lunch since before I can even remember
In fact I remember nothing and nothing is all I’m holding onto

When she appeared before me it took my breath and all of my loose change away
Dressed in her birthday suit and an ability to change according to the seasons, she called my bluff while going beneath the hood and replacing any loose hoses
I believed I was in love, but that’s always been my cross to bear

We live on Flintstones Chewables and our inability to ever finish anything we start
We break beneath the falsified pressure of another cooked election or email hacked for the sake of ridicule and redundancy
Let’s stop jumping for Joy and leave Merry alone because before we know it we’re all going up in a puff of second hand smoke

It’s no secret
I was born with an anchor tied to my ankle and like all ankle-bracelet-babies I’m bound to get mine before the sun sets or gets its teeth kicked in by an envious and devout moon
Ready to deliver the good news before coming to terms with none of the news being all that good and the blood spattered morning just keeps reminding me we’re all doomed

Charles Cicirella

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