Does the baby cry because it knows?

It becomes difficult and sometimes seemingly impossible to reach an end, a conclusion, but there are two ends? or maybe
they’re the beginnings of the same ends. I become
bogged down by uncertainty which like a snake, coils around inside of me and ties me up in knots, not to be outdone
my mind becomes a loaded gun, my eyes look down the barrel where my tongue acts as the silencer that silences the rattling of the snake.

Drinking milk to ease a stomach ulcer, checking my pulse because I am much older than I used to be and so is my uncertainty.

Issues becoming broader as the nights seem so much longer and my life is getting shorter and so am I.

my shrink could not bring herself to say,
that one day I would shrink away
to nothing,
but I knew that.

© 2020, John Smallshaw.