Struggles

Struggles

Am I still fighting for some feral victory in Vietnam?

—stubborn Achilles who won’t give up,

no matter the gimp in my brain.

The marriages,

the affairs,

the crazy, dead-end jobs

with their small wages

and cheap dreams

—always deferred.

The constants:

 anger, rage, faceless resentments,

grandiose impatience, and,

of course, the suicide daydreams.

They tell me—my shrinks do—

I’m lucky I have no taste for

alcohol and drugs.

For me, insobriety yields no joy:

I only crave my mind and soul caress again.

Stubborn Achilles who won’t give up.

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