Reflection On A Self-Destruction

Gifts past belief,

Perfect pitch, honed technique,

Undoing self from morn till eve –

It grieves those who no longer seek him.

Sitting all the day,

A once sought artist,

Solo instrumentalist,

Never lifting up his tushy,*

With his all upon the telly,**

Living on old memory,

One waits for a communiqué,

“Dead!” – from fears collected

Long self-neglected years,

Long self-rejected years

Laced with the chaos of self-based abuse.

[He was] once handsome-faced,

But hooked on spirits, wine and ciggies,***

Thinking on the Long Ago,

Not letting go,

Years spent, tears spent,

Its climax happening

As of this typing,

Lessons still unlearned.


*Yiddish for buttocks

**British informal term for television

*** cigarettes


A Reflection On Self-Destruction 10.6.2016

Small Stories Book;

Arlene Corwin

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