C​heerless maybe yes, I see the sheer predicament transcends comedy
drummed like the underground, dark staccato prosody and if you knew me

I’d confess that I’d assess and fuss about — should I read this poem, how much ROI for toil?
Not to spoil the ending but I would say if the toil would uplift or spoil

me/ make me a better person, think more objectively, pensively, empathetically,
a more profound thinker, keener powers of depth — compassionately —

empathy with humanity, but I wonder if I want to, I waver to get onto the metro
with the rats and the Junkie and the last stop, the final station, an epitaph in retro.