I don't care to care

You're not the same person I remember

and I'd rather sit here trying to make sense of what your loss means

than face the repulsion I have to emotion

[anywhere that's not on a page] 

Yes, I'm a selfish coward, 

too full of self loathing to accept what value I may bring

in the awkward silence I'm not smart enough to break

too concerned with how this affects me

than what's happening to you

exploiting your suffering for my own egotistical philosophies

my chivalry shines through when I chasten myself for  watching comedy - to make *me* feel better


you know; "in times like this"


Even now, more concerned with what a jerk *I* must be

not wanting to see you die.


when you're the one that's dying...


So, I'll go and see you off, and I hate that I hate it


because I should in some way, want to see you one last time






you know to belabor this, it's the one last time that's bothering


You know, that being said, lemme just go on.  Of course, you'll never see this poem.  And it's not even a poem.  It's utter crap.




I *FIX* things, or I laugh at them.  This one's new. 

Who am I mad at?  Obviously not you.  Doctors?  Cancer?  Check.  Then here comes the whole rant about industrial pollutants, from a smoker -- a smoker who counted on sneaking out for a smoke with you, because even at 35, your parents didn't know, counted on having many more years to do that.

It was my own arrogance, my own taking it all for granted that everyone would be here when I clicked my heels three times and came back from my f__ing lalaland adventures and now,  well, here we are, the word on the street is they've told you there's nothing they can do, and I'd rather not believe them.

This "visit" has an ugly ring to it, and I choose to disregard it.  Boy, I wish I could write you an actual letter.  Yet, that just seems so contrived and final -- even when I knew you were sick, I sent you one e-mail.  Atta boy.  Master of, oh, what's the word?  Obviously not of words.  

I can sure describe a 2009 Ford Ranger!  You know, the things I do for the human race would make Nelson Mandela proud.

I dunno.

Trevor, go f__k yourself.









The End

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