After 3 years, I might be finally sick

sore throat, but tough as nails.

Give a man a reason to endure,

and he will never take a day off.

Most government jobs kill that—

why do you think they say,

“Happy Friday”

in the hallway.

My strength comes from some other place,

not easily known.

That, is something I did not have

most of my life.

Oh, the moments in life can be glorious,

but nothing beats an empty room

and the slow sunrise

creeping up the wall, and enough inspiration

to keep me going until noon.

I used to knock-out my poems on an electric typewriter

that would scream at me,

and I could smell its black ink.

On the job, I am tested, constantly.

Usually, it’s a major annoyance

because it feels like they have something

I don’t have.

In reality,

they are empty

and I have more than I know what to do with.

People are always full of advice for me

and it would make sense

if I was

where they have been

or they

and I

were one in the same.

We are different—

them and I.

I am an alien,

writing about

Them.

I need to write

Otherwise, I might be

Them.

Or worse.

Thank God for Writing.