Digit Four
pimple faced
emotionally unbalanced
millennium two
is a teenager
JB 12/31/2012
The new year rolls out before me, shrouded in mist and
mystery. Four digits, one changed. Two-thousand and twelve is nearly spent, but the
dying wroth of a bitter year still burns brightly in ash - enough to make me
wonder whether a single new digit will change my fortune.
I’m surprised to find that I’m too bitter to look forward
with pure hope and joy. A new year dawns
and for the first time I feel somewhat like the girl with diamond jewelry who
freezes to death, never noting the irony of coal transformed and draped around
her body in cold, hard glitterings.
I’m not happy with what the last year brought, but it’s
hardly a satisfying experience to seethe.
I’m tired of having reasons to be angry, but I’m also tired of my own
response.
It’s not the year that needs renewed, it’s me. Now is probably as good a time as any. I should probably work on this.
