You hear the "experts" declare:

We’re seconds away from ultimate destruction...

nuclear war —

While that may be true, the threat won’t turn me blue,

My days are numbered by, and for, God.

My spirit yearns to
Leave this godforsaken
City for good

To build a couzy chalet
Hidden somewhere
Amidst the alps

And to watch the
Seasons change while
Playing guitar on the porch
With my dogs at my feet

So why does a quiet life
Keeps getting away from me?

it’s been a while
since I wrote something—
something to name
the numbness in me.

I haven’t gotten better,
but I haven’t gotten worse.
days blend into each other,
work blurs into static,
time marches on.

I don’t feel a thing—
or maybe
I feel everything.

a numb little mouse,
trapped in my room,
I wake up fine,
then spend the day
trying not to fall apart.

a text from a friend—
and I smile,
like maybe the day
won’t drown me after all.

but then night comes.
I stare at the moon
and wonder:

what is this feeling
boiling inside me?

emotions—so fragile,
spinning like yin and yang
but blurred,
lost.

and still, I wonder:
why is it
so empty
inside?