BLACK HOLE
Procrastination.
My favorite lame.
Hours, days, weeks,
turned into years;
wasted,
like a drunk
struggling to straight walk.
Procrastination is my vice.
Accomplishing nothing in large quantities.
Calendar full of daily dos
most undone.
Avoiding the large questions of life.
Avoiding meditating
to silence God’s calling;
what if it’s something I don’t want?
Like death do us part?
Avoiding the gym
because I might look so hot
I’ll be attractive to men I don’t want.
Like the two married ones
that hit on me at a party last Spring.
Avoiding my class assignment
because I suck at it,
especially compared to people
with 100,000 hours of practice
like Mozart, Shakespeare or Picasso.
It’s what I do best – I avoid.
The years pass me by
like a motorcycle whizzing by
on the striped line
in heavy traffic.
The Earth’s pirouettes and
revolutions
dry my skin,
protrude the blue veins & cartilage
on the backs of my hands;
sag and drag down the parts once perky,
deepen the grooves on my face;
deepen the tone of my voice
previously high-pitched and youthful.
Avoiding creates a void
that sucks me in
like the pull of a black hole
never again to expel its prey.
Dare I do something?
Dare I swoosh?
Just do it?
Do what?
Fuck it and succeed?
Do whatever it takes to skyrocket to the moon?
Love without borders?
Hear the call and heed?
Acquiesce to fate or destiny or choice?
Risky.
Failure is an option.
Pain a possibility,
a now reality.
I’d rather watch an episode.
Or better yet,
binge a whole season.