Jim Trainer


In Uncategorized on September 24, 2020 at 3:16 pm

I’m so glad I got all my shit together just in time for dystopia.
-Pamela Dawson

Early this morning I shit myself standing up. I was ‘roided to the tits for days prior and south Texas was gripped by a “false Fall”–grey and warm and about to rain every day since the summer broke, whenever that was. The two officers who shot and killed Breonna Taylor were not charged today and there is no face in this country as beautiful and gone as hers. Her face will come to symbolize a freedom the working poor will never have. These are strange days. No bottom to the abyss, as John Cusack put it last year and without presentism, or any faith that things will be as they are based on how they were, the days grind by and the nights come on with dread. I’ve run out of wisdom posts ago. We’re all so sick of it coming but stuck and held in place waiting for whatever it is to get here. I don’t want to write this post. I don’t want to write. I don’t want to do anything but that’s probably my problem.

I’ve come at depression and low self worth for years with work. Now I’ve got a body of it. So what. My writing’s gotten better. Good thing, too–if I still wrote like I did in ’10 I would’ve hung myself by now, with or without a decade done and almost six-hundred fifty of them in the can. I hit my stride Good Reader. I got better in every sense. Though my guts are wrecked. And my sex drive is stalled. My diet’s alright. I’m able to keep the anger mostly in check. I work in the daytime and come home and do the real work. I’ve everything I ever wanted. I should’ve wanted more. It’s a strange sense regretting things, now that we’re in a state of diminish and free fall. Strange to regret not traveling more now that I can’t travel at all. Strange to come up on 10 years writing here and release a 6th collection–a Going For The Throat Anthology. It’s strange to want anything other than what I have but coming up empty, too, thinking I should want more.

The cops who shot Breonna Taylor, dead, in her home, won’t be charged. 200,000 people have died from a disease the leader of this country won’t acknowledge, let alone treat and try and contain. I’ve fought against depression and abysmal self-worth for my whole life and I’m sitting on a body of work. I can write my way out and through and it’s everything I ever wanted. So what.

Curator at Going For the Throat, columnist for Into The Void, progenitor of stand-up tragedy™. Jim Trainer publishes a collection of poetry every year through Yellow Lark Press. To sign up for Jim Trainer’s Poem Of The Week, visit jimtrainer.net.



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