there is a movie where the main character
lives Groundhog Day over and over
and over and over
and he can do what he wants
while everyone else
does the same old thing.

I think it’s safe to call that experience
dysphoria, because I live
the same old day, the same old over
and I remember the day before
and the day before that one
while everyone thinks it’s just that day only.

Knowing something that no one else knows
and carrying that–what–what would that be called,
burden, responsibility, honor, freedom,
carrying that sentence in my bones and marrow
those bones of lead and marrow of molten lava
and my superheated flesh constantly evaporating.

But what if we are all living Groundhog Day?
What if everyday we wake up, it’s just the same
day done again, but we only believe it is different,
because well it is, and all our thoughts and opinions
are just so much shadow that chases the groundhog
back underground to hide from eternal winter?

Eventually the man runs the gamut of options
and is reduced to meaningless repetition over and over
until he actually considers oeuvre, and oeuvre
and then things change, because he himself is changed…
and that is what makes the difference, releases us
from Groundhog Day Forever.