Life’s Lament

Hope’s ambitions tuned
with the continuity of expectations
and stated categorically
when no categories exist.
What I want to be—
not what I am to become.
Fuelled and thwarted
by a dismal plan
drafted on a chessboard
in purgatory.
Played out by pieces
moved by experience
and mind strategies
in apathetic anticipation
of being in check—
or checkmated out
of hopeful ambition
played on the squares
of existence.

You have completed the full circle
back to the perimeter beginning—
or short cut across the diameter—
or fast tracked on the radius.

Contemplative crosswords of knowledge.
Careless cross referenced convictions.
Hollowed hopes,
uselessly meaningless.
Deadlocked dread,
naively pitiful.

The only mark I made
was to rescue a suicidal man
who cursed me for my diligence
and sobbed at his resurrection.
Oh for the retardedness of
a simple mind
absurdly unaware
foolishly smiling
at life’s foibles
happily rejecting
obvious conspiracies
and stupidly trusting
as the deception dagger
is deliberately plunged.
Thanking the world
witlesssly while staggering
to a premature grave.