Written by Jennifer Wise
I wear a hat every time I go outside.
It’s brim is low
And shadowy.
To see and to think
Is enough.
I watch television without the volume on.
I tune out your talk;
I’m sorry.
I think it’s a symptom
Of my neuroses.
Nervous. I’m always nervous.
Anger turns into bile.
I chatter like a beak,
Always clacking
And searching;
I want a life outside this house.
I want everything.
To feel the breeze; live and be alive
At the same time.
I want to feel dirt, gravel, and grass.
I’m sorry.
I think its a symptom
Of my neuroses.
I’m always behind a door.
There’s only one ending to this story.
Death is already happening.
Who’s to know who will combust first?
And how far apart?
On what day?
During which week?
During which month?
Or year?
You’re the only person
I talk to, really.
Your face is always somehow
A demonstration
Of dramatic irony
Confronted.
I keep thinking I’m hearing your steps
On the
Stairs to my left.
I lift the brim a little.
I’m sorry.
I think it’s a symptom
Of my neuroses.
Text © Jennifer Wise
Edge of Humanity Magazine’s
FREE Projects & Other Services
To Promote Works From Artists,
Photographers, Poets & Writers
PHOTOGRAPHY BOOK, SHORT STORIES & MUSIC Recommendations
FREE Platform For Artists NO MIDDLEMAN ART GALLERY
Open Submissions for Writers & Poets
Edge of Humanity Magazine is an independent nondiscriminatory platform that has no religious, political, financial, or social affiliations.
We are committed to publishing the human condition, the raw diverse global entanglement, with total impartiality.
Support This Small Independent Magazine
Please
Follow Edge of Humanity Magazine
Email Subscriptions
WordPress Bloggers
Follow Edge of Humanity Magazine on WordPress.com
Not on WordPress?
Don’t Forget to add
to your reader or bookmarks
Thank you!
Nice poem.
Very unique prose. If I see it on my computer instead of my phone, will it be poetic?
Thank you for sharing this poem. Tipping my hat to you.