Abhorred

There are many ways to activate my smile. But there is only one way to get to the switch, that's by a zipper. I broke it while trying to reach my smile-switch today. Despite my efforts, I can't fix the zipper on my own. I keep catching my fingers and my eyes hurt. They crinkle and they seethe under scrupulous lights. If I blink hard enough will next year appear behind the tear-smeared blur?

I always feel like I'm waiting for something to happen. I try to make it occur, but it never does. I strain too hard. The tendons in my brain are weakening. When I'm too tired to try they fall in malcontent and tender disarray. Where's a train when you really need one? Never on the local tracks, always across the continent carrying more worthwhile passengers to well-deserved destinations... never conveniently cracking my body in two.

Don't look or ask for me today. My smile is the residue of a sticky switch that refuses to move; it has the capacity to burden hearts with its bitter insinuation.