Notebook, 1993

I wanted to suffer quietly and beautifully
but suffering is noisy and deformed
it spits on the sidewalks in front of innocent
bystanders and it makes no apologies
it wipes its nose on its sleeve and it whines
for sympathy it licks the hands of the compassionate
it howls over a broken fingernail
everything reminds it that it exists everything
mocks its existence everything convinces it that it
is ugly it is a freak at a freak show it is
the rotting leftover shoved in the back of
the refrigerator and it makes everything smell
as its final biting and weeping vengeance that
it exists at all.
Apparently quiet and lovely sufferers exist
I've never met one but this is what I am supposed
to be instead I have made myself obvious and
now the fingers are pointed at me.