Notes on Loss

if life's not all loss, i'd have something left to lose. it's funny how the rug never seems to stay in place. no amount of tenure or wisdom seems to change that. amnesia is really the mark of a happy life; to forget the trials of past and naively assert hope in future. it's a luxury really, to be ignorant in the face of life's patterns. the pain of my life is more a cost, to metabolize indigestible form on behalf of others. me and the drain are on a first name basis, and drowning is my rite of investiture. day after day with new objectives and dreams, pretty faces and places, they never seem to nourish. every mission has got a casualty, and i'm reborn in a body bag.