There's nothing wrong today.
There are no mice in my ear.
No last call. No piano playing softly in the corner.
Absolutely nothing went wrong today.
My apologies for being so uninteresting.
My apologies for being so uninterested.
Nothing worse than an apologetic narcissist.
I'm sorry for not hating god today.
I'm sorry for being so fucking average.
I'm sorry my dad didn't molest me.
I'm sorry your uncle didn't think I was hot.
I'm so fucking sorry that I'm nobody to you.
I'm sorry you would have never given me the time of the day.
If not for a trick of the eye, wicked troll magic.
I'm sorry I don't validate your existence.
I'm sorry there's nothing wrong.
And I still have the magnum loaded,
and the gin unloaded.
The quietest night in seven years.
Sorry for not being exactly who you needed.
I got what I deserved.
I'm sorry it's nothing beautiful.
Like a male underwear model falling backward silently
arms out
eyes closed
off a highrise apartment into busy humming streets.
Daylight.
With plenty of pedestrians holding briefcases.
With inferiority complexes about those assholes in armani and they're in men's warehouse.
I'm sorry it had to end this way.
With a bang instead of a whimper.
The question...
I forgot.
The answer,
only one.
Only you.
