months ago
i was asked
to do an
interview
about writing

i said yes

then every time
it was scheduled
a new emergency
caused a delay

which went on
for two months

when the day
finally arrived
i got an invite
and sat waiting
for the host
for an hour and a half

she never showed
but had been posting
about her haircut
as if all was normal
the entire time

we haven’t spoke since

i never did
figure out the game
perhaps simply
to waste my time
or make me look stupid
either option
i am perfectly capable
of doing myself

but every now and then
i remember and wonder
what exactly happened
out of morbid curiosity
the interview wouldn’t
have done anything for me
of my flailing career
it was a favor for someone
i considered a friend
who, like so many others,
was only playing a role

both confounding
and utterly meaningless
and one of a myriad of
reasons i prefer solitude

then the only irrational
emotional swings are mine

humanity is a coagulated
emotional wasteland
an insipid hellscape
where perception is
a symptom of delusion
and we play the villain
in someone else’s lies