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
After The Heart Attack:
by Victor Schwartzman
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