it’s a contest
that is open for anyone,
but no one else I know
is doing it. nobody is keeping score,
it is you competing
against yourself, and
by the way? you’re winning.
seeing you doing so much
makes me want to try
harder, to do more, to pull out
all the stops, to drive myself
to new heights, and coincidentally
to beat you.

this is just one of the
many ways
you make me want
to be better. to think more
of how I can help others,
and less about myself,
to look for ways to be more
creative, to get up and
go outside
once in a while
before night time,
to use my body and my mind
to express a certain
range of motion, to stretch
and strive and challenge myself
to live, damn it, instead of
accepting my slow death,
the one that I can feel coming
from a long way away
like a tsunami, that makes me want
to lie down in its path
and say sayonara
right now. but
I guess I have plenty of time
to sleep when I’m dead,
and to die when that crushing wave
gets quite a bit closer. to quote
Dorothy Parker, “might as well

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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