yeah, but - does it really matter?

[diatomaceous]

somebody said you had no talent. somebody got that sobering feeling of embarrassment on your behalf when they read what you wrote, what you put out there for the rest of the world to see. somebody said at least you try.

so what?
_________________________

just after waking i took
each minute and plucked its petals,
dropped them into a jar
half-empty on the windowsill
to dry
little heaped tombstones
in a graveyard shaft of light

how do we know we're not already dead?
asks a man inside my head
again and again.
so what's the point in giving up
if you can't be sure you haven't already?

what's the point of caring
and what, exactly, again
is the point of fear?
what is the point of your self-preservation,
what is the point of hiding?

and if you're wrong, if all the time you DID have something to lose
and you find when the lights are going out
you were always ignorant of the risks -
wasn't it bliss? didn't you enjoy the rides
in your pinhead century of amusement park?