The embarrassments,
the mundane injuries
and the insults of
daily life were always
too much for me.  My
skin, always thin, never
hardened. And one day,
my wife complaining how
I burned the chicken
again was all I could
take, so I opened
the window and jumped out.

But even here, there
is no rest. No rest, and
no freedom to change.
When I was alive, at
least there were a few
things that brought a fleeting
smile to my face.
Now there’s simply nothing.