Episode A Poem by Jerrey Ward

And suddenly, it was the middle of the night.
And the day was gone. And nothing happened.
I mean, you don't remember anything. Except
it was pandemic and it didn't and and people were
crazy and there were threats, it was sunny, then it
was cloudy, then it was rainy and then it was cold.
You had a soup, you waited forever. You were alone.
Nobody called you. Nobody came. You had vacation.
And then you wonder, are you going to sleep or is it
too early. Thank god you didn't drink. Your face is sore
from the bad nights sleep on the couch, because the noise
in the bedroom is too loud. And your lips hurt. And
you wanted to call someone. You wanted to cal your parents.
But it is too painful. There is nothing to say. Nothing happened.
And you sit on the balcony and you hear dogs balking and children
talk and it is dark and some windows have lights on, but it is so dark.
And you think of a song from Kanye West, but don't know why.
And you are getting bored. You write a poem. And not think of death.
And you light a cigarette. It tastes terrible. Just like everything else.
And tomorrow is going to be the exact same day yet again. And you
hope you can fall asleep with a pretty image in your head or a nice memory,
or if God permits, even a dream. A piece of hope. But probably not.
You think about cheese. You aren't hungry, however. The taste of cheap
redwine is still on your lips. How many days have it been. You turned fat.
Your skin looks overall terrible. And you look up again in the sky and
your mind goes blank.