Sometimes

at two a.m.
my mind sets out to scout
experience remembered,
outtakes played over and over
that, absent change,
reinforce unwilled attention
by the simple art
of being forever mindless.

I try and try
to turn to something different,
without success
because my life
always absorbs the blame
for whatever happened.

Night after night
I trot out the worn emotions,
shame and blame,
knowing I cannot change them.
What’s done is done.