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After The Heart Attack

by



I have seen the best minds of my generation
ruined by work, tv and french fries
staggering through neon streets for a fix
of meaningfulness amid the delusion
struggling hopelessly to enjoy their damaging lives

The heart attack woke me five a.m.
with an angry fist in my chest
Sleeping that night was hard
I wondered before returning to sleep
would I ever wake again?

Should regret the onion rings—but it was not their fault
should regret the tv—but I turned it on
should regret the work that paid so well for destroying my passion
but I don’t, even though they all ground me down
to a tiny vial of grit

To be one less voice co-opted by the delirium of Moloch…
to ensure I will wake and not go through this again
is for me
to make my life worth waking for
instead of what society demands

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About Victor Schwartzman


Victor would love to create a profound awe in you of Him by listing his phenomenal number of writing accomplishments, except that he does not have a phenomenal number of writing accomplishments. He has a few, but none of them are phenomenal. Some are nomenal but without the fee, and that's about it. In the highly unlikely event you want to see what people with obvious bad taste thought was worth publishing of his stuff, use one hand to type Victor Schwartzman into Google. If you use two hands on the keyboard, that would be stereotyping. Victor has not won any awards, and curse all Judges for their lack of insight. Does Victor care for awards? Nay! Victor cares not for awards, or for money, sex or recognition or sex. Why, if Victor were offered a prize, he would refuse it! He would! Damn recognition! He will, however, but graciously accept donations from readers who wish to support his desire not to work.

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