The Usual Whining
My spirits deflate. Small wonder.
The weather's disgusting, too windy,
Too rainy, too cold. My various joints,
Mostly my wrists, radiate pain with
A steadiness and an intensity nearly
So strong as the sun. I'm not keen
To keep living, and surely not here.
If I must carry on, fly me out
To Malaysia, where I can drink
Heavily, sprawled on a beach, too
Far gone to remember this pain.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 37 times
Written on 2023-11-21 at 03:27
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