mango summer sunset | | august poems (2023)

Apathy of Life

What do I do once the sun has set?
In its height, it shouted a wailing heat;
at least in the heat
I had something to look forward to,
something to hope for:
night, a cool still,
silence.
It was if the suffering itself
gave me purpose.
What do I do once the night is attainable?

Is silence peace?

Once the cool has arrived,
what then?
What if the absence of heat brings about
an empty nothing?
What if my despair was more exciting?
A romanticized fullness of emotion—
downcasting, yes, but I least then I felt something—
I've let my breath go stale;
my wait for peace is over and with its sweetness
I do nothing!
What if I now exist for the sake of existing?

What if being ok means an apathy of life?