What a time to be alive.
What choices.
*
At one point today I imagined myself
—my deepest self, my soul, as you like—
inwardly descending en enfer,
—silently, privately, invisibly—,
as around me the whole show played out as usual.
I imagined it for a moment.
‘The weather’s bad’, I said in myself some time later.
The internal weather I carry in me.
Interior climate.
The thoughts were bad,
and came and struck as they do.
Flick—flick—knock—crack.
Tempt, would have you.
At some points I thought:
you’ve got to do something.
Go and do something that scares you,
go start a conversation,
approach someone and small talk,
something.
(Once today I did.
Certain good.
But the difficulties persist—
and I as I can,
I do too.)
Gray Haskins 