Brian’sPoems

Copeless

No matter how long I sit this morning,
I am unable to silence my mind.
There must be something in this room,
for even the dogs can’t find
a peaceful spot to lie.

Maybe it’s just me
with all my chaotic energy.
I am both restless and worn out.
This exhaustion prevents restful sleep.

Wherever did I get the idea
that I ought to be able to cope,
even when all of life
which I took willingly upon
my two bum shoulders,
began to grind me down?
I thought I could heave a mighty sigh,
and everything would be cast aside.

This beautiful and brutal life
has convinced me of my mortality.
There is so much I cannot bear
and cannot do for myself or others.

I tried to be the ideal everyman:
a star pupil,
a brilliant entrepreneur,
a selfless superhero,
a know-it-all brother,
a voice for the voiceless,
sobriety for the addicted,
a song for the tone-deaf,
a potent lover,
and a father figure to the unparented.
I no longer wish to carry the illusion
of my precious immortality,
especially the magical thinking
that tells me I ought not be restless,
that I can be the master of my mind,
and hold dominion over my life.

I’ll take pennies on the dollar
for any of my former super powers.
But I wanna keep my weathered soul,
‘cause I believe it’s gonna deliver me
to a new life.