The impossible task

I am
Feeling like
I am already dead
I want to know, why?

is there no hope
that this life will improve

or is it a posture?
or worse
  can
      I
        not
           face the
                 sincerity

The unironic bleakness

of trying to be honest

To myself for once

This isn't the time for
rhyme and meter

whatever time it is
it is close to midnight

The glow from the screen
of my laptop as I type

honesty is respecting your time
without it becoming
the business of
being a door-to-door salesman

of framing every indignity
I have seen this week
betrayal, coercion, and goodbyes
of being blamed     and threatened
without even knowing why

I keep telling myself

The impossible task

of this poem

Is being interesting but sane