(The following poem was written in my brother’s basement while I was applying to graduate schools. I am not sure if I submitted this piece with my applications, but if I did, it is because it is a Shakespearean Sonnet (a style of poem popularized by Billy Shakespeare).
Sixteen years ago this day, I embarked on an evening journey –
A passive suicide. Stated more accurately: my daily dose
Hiatus turned helicopter ride over the Great Smoky
Mountains. And this momentary-death rendered me comatose:
Lock tight brain, dirty kidneys – and an opportune time
With an ex-con called Russ and closed with my good eye
In kaleidoscopic wandering. I desperately tried to align
My waning theta state to reality, untethered silken
Stands from my Soul’s near-fatality: a gossamer whisper
Across an undulating aether – a brush stroke whir from Van
Gogh’s The Starry Night. Years passed before I could decipher
What those romanticized obsessions were really all about;
There’s no regret in learning lessons, as long as you find out.