Cutting Cards 1st edit

[tmanzano]

"Cutting Cards"

Catatonic is safe,
but It's me who wears
the dead fur.
I cannot howl anymore.
No more edge in winning
the high-minded marathon.
Books no longer set ablaze.
Tails no longer wag me stiff.
Now I sit calmly at the
Secretary of State like
other plain-faced fucks,
acting like the music
doesn't really suck, and
maybe I'll sip latte' and
watch Wheel of Fortune tonight.

They miss some of the old
music my mind could play:
the popular songs that came
close enough to the edge to
make them laugh and
fornicate in their pants just
enough not to explode - as if,
as if, as if.

I stacked two here,
dropped one there,
played dice at the lonely
casino on the edge of town,
always losing more than
my neurons afford.
Looking down at the
bottom of the well, I
remember the shark that
almost ate me.
Refill.

The gambling I get... What rings more is the lack of fulfillment in many of the things that used to give joy and zest. I read the wheel of fortune line as growing old. S3 feels a little out of flow with the rest if this piece. However, does work for me based on my assessment on what I think this piece is talking about. A little work on that stanza and it ties it up for me. I maybe be way off here, but I think that gambling was a catalyst for losing youth. I loved it...

Cutting cards... Half way through life? Midlife?