The Lesson in Losing It
You’ll never not want to kill yourself, he said, matter-of-factly, he’d probably sat across from hundreds or thousands of us—a new track of an old song—So the best you can do, here he held my hand, is find something to live for every single day. He gave me back my shoelaces, wallet, keys, a list of local shrinks I’d never afford or visit anyway, and, as if it just came to him, he said, I’ve never seen a guy get as many visitors as you, honest to god— The same observation of Hobo Ryan, who told me to call him that, nineteen, checked himself in for a few nights off of Ocean Avenue, handsome, straight but didn’t mind a guy’s mouth for a price, laughed when he found out I was “the suicide” Man, I’d do anything to be you, be gay even, haha— I don’t mind admitting I loved him then—But really, It’s been almost a month and you’ve had visitors every goddamn day! Had it been that long? I lost hours and days, half my mind, and yet He was found out in the middle of the night, no mental or emotional illness, no insurance, no way to say goodbye or tell me his last name which even the doctor couldn’t give me, just a lanky blonde kid saying, I know this is weird, the night before, But do you think I can sleep here with you—nothing gay, man, just, I don’t know, do you mind? How could I? Not at all. Just two guys who’d never see each other again trying to find something to live for. Originally appears in Kissing the Wound (Moon Tide Press, 2023)
Audio: J.D. Isip reads “The Lesson in Losing It”
J.D. Isip is the winner of the 2026 Louise Bogan Award for his collection, What Wonder (Trio House Press, 2027), and he is the editor for the upcoming anthology, The American Pop Culture Almanac: Daily Readings of Poetry & Prose (Moon Tide Press, 2027). His full-length collections include Reluctant Prophets (Moon Tide Press, 2025), Kissing the Wound (Moon Tide Press, 2023), and Pocketing Feathers (Sadie Girl Press, 2015). A native of Southern California, J.D. now teaches in South Texas where he lives with his dogs, Ivy and Bucky.
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This poem was very personal as I've spent a fair amount of time in psyche wards.
I enjoyed it. poet dennis rhodes