I let myself down again.
These expectations I imagine
Others placed on me
weigh me down.
But it's only me.
It's my head.
It's my ******* body
that is never
strong enough,
fast enough,
I never learn quick enough
I surely learned early
that I'll never be enough.
To fail one time in a thousand
is one too many.
I'm just not the man
I expect myself to be
I'm just me
And it's not enough.

And the world stared,
as another man passed
before his time.

Im going home,
I dont know what to.
I suppose the river,
and the woods,
the cold icy streets
that hold so much sentiment.
Ill be too sober in the day.
Ill be too drunk at night.
Old friends wont know me,
while they all seem the same.
So much pain, and love, and words unsaid, watering my roots
in that town.
Im going home,
but am I?

I want to be good at this.
Good at life,
love,
fixing things;
kintsugi,
making things;
for this world,
for us.
Its a curse
to want what we dont have,
and I have
never been much good
at anything
for anything,
for anyone,
for me.
A swiss cheese self esteem,
riddled with inadequacy.

The wanderlust
is a front
for my need
to always be running.
To hide from the demons
within.
To escape the parts of me
I want dead.

Just imagine,
a world where all the hate
was replaced with love,
where absolute empathy
was inherent in all of us
where we comforted
the lost,
the broken,
the lonely,
where we realized
the universal connections.
Just imagine.

Preach
and preach
your moral superiority.
You're the oh so natural,
pure,
perfectionist,
healthy minority.
Tips,
you can keep them.
Stop pretending
to care,
when you really just want you
to live forever.
You're scared to die.
You're scared to live.
Get off your high horse
and roll in the dirt like the rest of us.
Your belief in afterlife is
just a way for you to set you above us.
You're obsessed with immortality,
but once you accept reality,
that we're a cycle of energy,
you're closer to being free of your fear.

It is all too much.
The senses tune
to the rumble
of thunder in the earth,
the reverberations in the air
resounding in his chest.
There is chaos abound
while time slows
and its all a bit dramatic.
The fragility of life
a distant concern
pushed down in it's box
yet felt so fervently.
Violent action leaps forth
to the forefront of the mind.
The rest forgotten.

I'm sorry,
I'm drunk, I know.
But how can you text me
a smile,
when you just threw
every promise
out the window.
When you let him in
and up to your room.
When you laid down
and let intimacy ensue.
If you wanted him,
just tell me
so I know where I stand,
so I don't have to be
your man.

Tell me how you want me,
I would be anyone,
anything for you.
Lie down on a bed
of roses for you.
Slowly bleeding dignity.

Yet I cant ignore
the man I should be
that I was.
That man wont
depreciate,
be decieved,
let gaurd down,
show want or need.
That stone man
so cold.
Where is he?
Im not so old,
but I should be.

Not all at once.
Barely perceivable really.
But slowly,
things are getting better.
Balance restoring.
The tides ebb and flow.
Maybe it's you,
or it could be me,
or possibly we.
Resculpting each other.
Chiseling away at hearts of stone,
and sparking flames
to warm our bones.
Miles to go, mountains to climb,
rivers to cross.
Full lungs, blurry eyes.
Its a long road,
but It's gonna be fine.