Payment

I am paying for my lies.

when I scrape dried grain of rice
off of my bowel after finishing
yet another egg omelette,

when I tie down thin plastic lips
of white vinyl trash bags
holding my nose, dragging it down
the lonely hall way and notice
drops of trash juice stains on the floor,

I know I am in this world, not
in the world of self-importance,
high stake gamble, nor tearful drama.

so perhaps now I am paying for it.
my head is burning like an ember
unrequited of promises of comfort
slowed in a quagmire,
suspended in numbing silence,
questions unanswered in a painfully
freezing temperature.

ah. perhaps just a simple life could’ve sufficed. But no, I must charge forward.

10.8.2021