Laid Lied-er

So much for hard work.
Laid off at forty-seven;
a midlife crisis.

Such a boring town
Alike buildings interspersed
with roads and clipped grass

As child twas foretold
fated crisis my forties
Whether I'd survive

I recollected
the shifts the rescheduling
signs you let me go

cut off in my prime
so-called career so-called life
indivisible

Checking for updates
Semblance of situation
Not out of control

desultory grunts
My response to everything
in this sultry heat

I procrastinate
tired dragging dreading to
delay rejection

I don't quite know if
I don't care or I'm in shock
I don't feel a thing.

I am sorta glad
No more bending over self
To placate ingrates

The days passed slowly
Since their count past my fingers
I was thrown away

It is tiresome
Try to resu-me my life
For those who'd care less

Now I am leaving
on uncalled sabbatical
a double-edged pause

Yet another tri-al:
poor health no job collapsed home
My tri-bulations.

I'm t{i~r}ed and w(e)ary
Constant shit happens no rest
I ad(e|a)pt to Change

Empty reaction
Even after I was robbed
My life is net loss.

It was prophesied
I'd face two calamities
First in my Forties

Unlike others I am unawed:
large trees grown tall
sheltered for generations
surrounded by rich forests.
-
stunted trees resonate;
Constant battered Exposed
decades to grow an inch.
Clinging to my barren life.

My soul is weathered
In face of calamity
Just keep pushing through

My life is shambles
I was not meant for riches
As ancients foretold

Toxic algae bloom
Sterile condos offices
Along waterfront

always keenly felt
I never belonged, in my
Singularity

Trapped by these trappings
I shore I store I stall crawl
My loss is my gain

Basement and brambles
End the neverending curse
For the past 15 years

another flurry
of resumes and effort
hoping for the best

on the eleventh
I dawdled on this and that
Imperfect closure

a bakers dozen:
shitty days and crappy meals
and house poop headaches

It was on this day.
Has it only been a month ?
this eternity

Settling depression
Feeling nowhere to belong
After interviews

facing nothingness
dreaded compromised futures
It's tough to be tough

where had the days gone
blur of packing and prepping
lying comatose

I had never felt
leading to my departure
filled with foreboding

Shadows elongate
As I flee the setting sun
and sham of a life

I'm as migrant tern
Seeking place to settle yet
blown away each turn

The pit in stomach
when ground beneath collapses
on trail and in life

horizon treeline
distance between and the clouds
hanging overhead

Golden illusion
soft sun rays makes things appear
pretty less wretched

My head pushed against
Feeling the knots all over
Sink into my stress

Peaks recede in rain
My dreams becoming distant
in fog shrouded fjord