“Mom, I’m not an idiot.”
She had been off her meds,
I could swear it.
The same nagging voice
As if I was a child,
“Jonathan David, I give you
money and the first thing
you buy is *****?”

What did she want,
An informal letter of my condition?

I apologized for having
a father as a drunk,
And a mother that took
more pills than she could stomach.

She hung up,
And I took another drink.

I sit
Feeling young and tired.
Tired of the steps,
Tired of learning,
Tired of the fresh
Faces that smile
With ease.

I didn’t brush my
Teeth this morning.
Whiskey and smoke
Sit on my breath
As two week flings
Sit on my chest.

The hum.
It is constant in summer
as is cold in winter.
The sheets are sticky
even with the lack of play.
Smell of dull laundry and smokes
to see me through the day.

Lure me out of these old ways.
Shut my mouth
and stop these old sayings.
Broken aches heal broken limbs.

I'm up for the taking.

Black man beating on drums,
the red on her hair like fire in my arms.
The wild child that I have been seeking has
finally crossed the tracks to see where I humble.

I'll whisper sweetness to her,
and my heart will pour out,
my body and mouth no longer it's lid.

Speak to me you golden muse,
send the messenger to read my reviews.

Her body swayed against mine,
each new step to dance
a leap for my heart.
Hair drags on my shoulders and
for the first time in months, I'm happy.
Outside, between the bricks and tape,
our trails leave laughs and skips,
heard as footsteps amidst the wondering crowd.

We are the rulers of the world,
and we are setting it
on fire.