Ebb

Can’t find a rhythm anymore

Scratching out
Worthless words
In tattered notebooks

Thoughts of
My old benefactor,
Liquor,
Shake me free of
Good memories

But I don’t let myself
Through the doors
Of those stores
Anymore

Should be sat
At the keyboard
Hammering out even
Unpleasant melodies
Working on
That song
I keep meaning to finish,
Meaning to start,
Meaning to share,
To at least make
Some minuscule contribution
To this cracked
And breaking world

And I can’t seem
To even roll
To the edge of
This vast and empty bed

Rather
Daydreaming
Of a hundred conversations
I won’t have today
Or any day

Watching the cars
Scurry along
Ferrying people
To places
For reasons
That I don’t know
And don’t have

Can’t find a rhythm anymore
For words
Or music
Or food
Or paint
Or people

Can’t