Tohm Bakelas

like all the rest

Five past midnight and
you’re sitting in the dark,
staring at a stack of books
that you never paid for and
you’ll probably never read.
Madness takes all shapes and
forms, you know this better
than most. Pacing moonlit floors,
you count the years that have
passed and need to pass until
you’re eligible for retirement
or you find a better job. You
think of all the accomplishments,
all the heartbreak, all the sorrow,
all the loss, and all the pain you’ve
endured. And why not? Why bury
these memories? Why not sift
through these scattered ashes to
find some solace, to find some
closure? You once dreamed. And
long before the world turned ugly,
you once chased the sun without
forcing a smile. But now, now
you’re like all the rest, biding
your time, wishing for change, 
idling through life, waiting to die.

simple song

beer foam rising in the bottleneck—
another missed chance to drown
some ants, but in the winter
there are no ants, there is
only you.

springbirds return early to thaw
their wings in the sun, they sing
their songs from wet branches,
they sing their songs for you.

confusion is universal
when the worm dies
on salted concrete,
when you lose
your purpose
to reality.

don’t let this happen.

find love and let it in.

 

Tohm Bakelas is a social worker in a psychiatric hospital. He was born in New Jersey, resides there, and will die there. He is the author of twenty-five chapbooks and several collections of poetry, including Cleaning the Gutters of Hell (Zeitgeist Press, 2023).