The Weeping Willow
Uproots and stalks travellers
Folklore from England

I’m not sure there is a heaven, but I’m sure there is hell.
You don’t have to die to be there.
You can live there, you just finish another bottle.
You want to stop. You beg to stop.
You lock your apartment door until you sweat and shake.
Hell always takes you back.
Makes your chest hurt.
Makes you wish you would just die. But you can’t.
You’re too young and have a life to ruin.
So Hell waits.

we see a million things around us
all the time
and sometimes
none of it makes sense

we see a million things around us
second time
but this time
none of it makes sense

fool me once, fool me twice
another time
and every single time
none of it made any sense at all

except that one time
when it did make sense
enough to want to pay attention to it
and there wasn't enough time

I am scared, mommy
like I was in the summer storm
many months ago.
I tremble in my feet and hands
as I was in the deep puddle,
eyes open, screaming, shaking, mommy,
dark words want to come off my tongue.
Mommy, I am shaking as I come
down the stairs, light as a ghost.
Make me some milk, mommy
milk, if you see me there.

I have these demons that I can’t seem to get rid of. They’ve attached themselves to my mind, my heart and my soul and I’m tired.