Athazagoraphobia

Intermission has failed me.

A trip wire was not part of my blocking-

It left me on my knees.

Broadway lights, turning off with a loud

Shunk

An empty stage, where the greats have lived and breathed.

An empty audience.

A sweaty nightmarish vision.

Profesizing a future of microwave meals and cubicles.

It’s hard to ignore a sign.

Corporate hell, holding me hostage for the entirety of my life.

Suicide at 27.

I see…

Failure.

Perhaps another great one.

Reaching far, but the chair slips out from under me-

I almost had it,

My dream,

I dangle from the ceiling.

An outstretched arm, reaching desperately for a franel.

The curtain call is cancelled.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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