One poem by Jack Henry

fuckery

i don’t want to write
words that make
you smile
or feel
or know
or anything

really

i don’t want to dream
hope filters
through barrels
of shit
leaving me haggard
burnt
forlorn
and lost

i don’t want to sing
words of eclectic mornings
days or nights
things in between
rhythms and patterns
indifferent heart beat
fold up tight
in the bone

i don’t want to care
feet flew whenever
i climbed to high,
whenever i stepped too tall,
whenever i found a place
that stills my heart,
or monograms my soul
with your initials

i don’t want to love
because it’s a waste
of time and i don’t have
time as i wind down
slow, as movements
falter, and lingering
is no longer an option

i don’t want anything
now that i am indifferent
forgotten and left
buried in a basket
of bones

Author bio:

Jack Henry is a poet/write/non-conformist huddled in the dark confines of Los Angeles. Recently, against all odds and reason, Jack Henry launched d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t press, specializing in poetry/prose/memoir. Previous publications include CP Journal, Cause and Effect, Off Beat Pulp among others.