every step I take

negates each breath I make.

and every square of slushy sidewalk

connects until God tells them to stop.

it’s him I think of when I unravel the long lonely walk,

pounding tar and breathing car fumes.

running from the cold, the book store, the metro…

hoping that the roads don’t kill me before I get home.

my years stared down and I’m passed around from fate to fleeting fate.

I wind up at the wrong station and go to pass out in the lake.

all the while writing suicide notes in my head

and waking up thinking it’s someone else’s bed.

but I can still smile because I know,

in the end I’m just like every other asshole.