I’m Dead (Revised) Poem by Margaret Alice Second

I’m dead, don’t know how or when I died
although I do know why – endless lists of
French political news items broadcast in
stereo-audio booming with journalists’
machine-gun-fire voices have destroyed
my ability to prioritize

the senseless violence in African and
European countries facing like financial
crises coalesce into a grim grey stream – I
realize I cannot read these journals sanely,
much less memorise for language class,
my empty mind inanely vacillates

I do not care – with no substitute aims and
no alternative my mental gyroscope becomes
unsteady, even if I could seek help I’d still
lack the terms to describe my dilemma,
I cannot formulate the problem – unless
the explanation is I’m dead already