nonconformist in comfort

because my brain is on fire

I will write another dire

tire mire dictum

although

I fall on my face from exhaustion

I’m on my deathbed

one foot in the grave

I reach for your hand

and it’s not there

comfortin’ feelin’

it’s lost at this point

I’m cleanin’

free white spaces

between the brightness of my screen

to not fill them with words

again

as I don’t want to be sprinkled with shame

from not winnin’ again

you don’t have to look

there is nothin’ comfortable here

only brash

a few tears mixed with the marsh

that bloody challenge was there

for over a month

how come?

so much time to write poems?

I usually conceive them in less than a minute

and the next moment

they’re all just there

shinin’ on the page

exposin’ butts and faces

to the light

but will anyone see them there?

I doubt it

another poet

died like a comet

flashed for a moment

to return to the start

of this journey

but where is the beginnin’

if there is no end

I think I will stay

here for a while

to count all adverse actions

I will draw conclusions

for the future

and I’ll start all over again

is it not what I was doin’

all my life?

nonconformist in comfort – that’s me

say hi if I remind you of someone

*

September – October 2022

*

As this Challenge came to its comfortable end, this poem was supposed to be my last entry, Number 28th. Unfortunately, I missed the deadline, the last two poems were left without submitting it. It's just a satire, I probably wouldn't even have a chance to fight for any little runner thing. I wrote it anyway, so I’m publishing it.

***

Thank you for reading!