I’m back.

Oh boy, am I back.
I’m back to the sun,
to the land of the breathing!
Cut me some slack,
I’ve left and I’ve won;
here I am, in the land of the living!

It’s been a decade.
ah, it’s been a decade
Of just void. And nothing
a unique loss of something
that I never thought I’d have returned.
Like the whimsical promise of a full and worn urn.

In which there are ashes.
There are ashes so you can wish
And ashes so you can hope
And with healed slashes
across my chest and hip
I can finally loop the rope
and send myself back.
With what is killer.

I’ve been trapped in limbo
Like some worthless fool
For the past thirteen years
with no day cycle turning.

I’ve looked to the sky
for some kind of sign
or down the tunnel
for one greater than null.
If you think I’m bad
You should see who I left
and if you think I’m fucked
then go quench his bereft.

Here’s the thing about regret, I realize:
all of it is your own made up lies.
Sympathy to wish, perhaps
for mercy from the next emotional collapse.
A sort of acceptable karma
an invisible, invincible armor
for validation.

So regret, and guilt
are something I feel often:
the ruins of what I built
in the ground, forgotten.

But who cares.
I’m back.