Maybe it's just...

The Jehovah's witness
offered me a magazine this morning
I mouthed the words 'fuck' and 'off'
heard him mutter something over Bob Dylan
and kept on walking.
I was busy thinking about
how easy it would be
to just go.
I've woken up on one of those.
Nothing is right.
The job
The wife
The house
It's not me today.
I got in to work
and read a note left by the boss
it reminded me again
that I want to go somewhere and cry
but I don't cry anymore.
All that compassion I had
feels like a lie.
I looked at them all this morning
and tried to find it,
but the truth is
they don't make any sense to me.
They chose this,
and right now I'm thinking about that;
This is what I choose
and it doesn't feel right
that's an understatement
my entire being
feels like a fucking lie.
The boxing
The counselling
employment
romance
or whatever you call it
none of it is working.
Maybe it's just the beers I sank
because I didn't see another way out
last night,
but I doubt it.
Maybe it's just me
crying out for help:
To be lifted out
and dropped somewhere else
where I can make a go of it
again.