You distrust the day

It is dull and empty

Filled with purposeless challenges

And chance humiliations

The blandishments of whores

And the solace of paid friends

What if everything did not conform

To what you thought

The blue sky was not blue

The clouds did not obscure the sun

Or lead to darkest night

What if the eyes of your love were not true

Or a man was really a woman and a woman a man

What if everything you thought you knew

Revealed that you were not even you

A flock of bIrds fly

To the bare tree in winter

They sing and fly on

Tiny invaders

Imps that serve your

Fears on a platter

What most disturbs

Brought near 

With quiet efficiency

Unless an angel of the mind

Drive them out

The real question is not

To be or not to be--

The question

Is how to be if

To be leads inexorably to not be--

To question if cessation is proper

Suggests infinite time--

But cessation is already there

Waiting

Slings and arrows, fardels,

They all disappear like a cloud

As if never there

Along with you

It's that thing about dying

It takes care of itself 

And everything else.

]

For those interested, an instagram page: playwrightskarlan.

This strange lassitude

A seductive somnolence

Where you fall off

Into lost days

With unfinished dreams

And the sound of rain