These Days

I came across an old notebook

Where I had scrawled some words

Those were the days

Words were the only things I had

So I am retelling you the story

from the notebook

bear with me

for this is not a short poem

These days the only way

I can get any attention

Is by standing in front

Of the mirror

Because these days

Are days like none other

None other for me

And yet I feel

People all over

The world throughout time

Have undergone similar

Travails with varying degrees of adaptation

These nights the only way

I can feel asleep

is to be bone tired by

drink,exercise ,work

or a combination

of any of the above

And yet I feel

This is just a passing

a Passing phase

a Passing phrase

I used to sleep

Like a baby

Inevitably I shall

Sleep again

Like a drunken baby

overdosed on a combination

icy Scotch , Valium and

a still warm handgun

The morning came

I was still alive

The melancholy of the night

And my absurd imagination

Failed to kill me

They only made me

Stronger much stronger

To face once more

One more One more

Of these days