Anathematized to annual purgatory

Still confined to life’s lustrous limits

In the inevitable march towards demise, 

I outrun the unrunnable, for now

Despite the running, I find myself in the quicksand of the past

The new year commences with the eruption of a cork

Partiers, in laughter, avoid the pop

I stand in avoidance of the explosion, sure, 

But rather an explosive impulse of emotion

The sizzling of the champagne,

A perfunctory experience equally doomed to an end

Laughter dampens the flood of anxiety damned to my being

Escaping emotion, its lamentable truths

Perhaps the new year is meaningful

But only as an excuse to change

Yet I still find myself acrimoniously running from it all

Time, constantly on its run

No fatigue

No slowing

No end in sight

In my tracks, I reflect

The footprints of behind, evidence of an underappreciated journey

No more running; I’ll walk henceforth

Embracing life and its trial

Purgatory became my blessing