do not resuscitate

self-doubt is second nature to me, especially at the “midnight hour”. this poem looks at the failures of friendship, the pain of being misunderstood and the misplaced person who doesn’t experience full fellowship.


  • how i wish i could harden my heart,
    drying tears that too easy to start:
    – i am a such slow learner:
    i am a disabled discerner.

    enthusiasm my middle name,
    it blurs my poor sense of aim.
    I quickly trip with clumsy clay feet
    don’t press pause – just click delete.

    what is my particular place and role?
    squeeze square pegs into round holes.
    why do i always get it so wrong?
    why do I so badly want to belong?

    what a curse this heart and brain,
    easy openness a locked chain.
    I tire of all failed first starts:
    don’t kickstart this hopeless heart.

    I turn off my intense ignition,
    never passed the first audition.
    why nurture friendship deep
    when rain robs and winds reap?

    Initial impulses rightly scorned,
    empathy would better stillborn,
    perhaps better never than late –
    do not, do not resuscitate….



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