false

Mind growing dim from the throb of memorized dates.

I cannot feel,

but if you so desire

I’ll tell you the dates of the Byzantine empire.

Or, if you prefer,

I could bow at the door of the man in the suit,

my surrogate sire.

I strive entertain you with my absence of light

but when I pick up a pen to fight

double spaced,

twelve point,

times new roman

spills from the hole in my temple.

But at least

I haven’t forgotten to cite the source of my plight.

And I’ll die away somewhere.

But I will go down howling in spite of the night.

____

I’m sure this is not the type of sad you wanted, but it is all I have to offer