39/40
Comfortable Percentages
The second-to-last poem.
I am so done.
I never want to verse again.
I'm out of words, nothing is left
As for now, I'm checking boxes, stretching
word limit
Who invented this challenge, anyway?
Poetry is the most UNCOMFORTABLE venture. Certainly, for a scientist.
But I did the homework. Studied it all in preparation
Then I wrote, one poem for each day of 40
Now, only two left
Today. Tomorrow. Go back, count.
Then I'm finished.
Hands out in resignation.
Fuck comfort. Fuck poetry. Fuck teaching.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck will this get past censorship?
Don't matter.
Ain't nobody readin'.
.
40
About the Creator
No Real Balance
Reluctant Writer. Teacher.
Hawking vocal contests for love letters.
Keep reading
More stories from No Real Balance and writers in Poets and other communities.
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.