I don't feel better
watching 3 am come and go
sleepless nights
kept awake by blinding lights
of a thousand stars which I named
after all of my mistakes and transgressions

there's a picture of me painted in the sky
under eye circles and a look of infatuation
I call it a portrait of the artist as a reckless dreamer

Here
these fingers
on these scrawny hands
have felt a hundred other hands
have been bruised and cut and held
been cold and burned and broken
been scarred and ***** and reaching
waving middle fingers
peace signs
and fingers crossed
fingers crossed
fingers crossed
a thousands times over and now
once again
despite all they know
fingers crossed

Saturday night gathering
Of the two member club of bad moods
and contemplations
My friend with her hair tied back
Shuffling a deck of cards
I feel like I have done this
A thousand times
She says

She deals
We are playing shed
The only game we both know by heart
I know that she was always better than me
But I am trying to give her
A run for her money

Suddenly face up on the table
A jack of clubs with torn corners
The look of tired and impatient confusion
Drawn permanently on his face
My friend looks up at me
eyes gleaming with amusement
I laugh and say that I think
That's my mood of the day
She smiles
I was just going to tell you
That same thing

I know that look of fatigued detachment
The one you get when you realize
that the game you play has rules
And no one ever bothered
to tell you about them

Jack, it's going to be ok
This game is tough and tedious
But when it's all over
You will be shuffled right back
into a new one
And this time
it's going to feel
a lot like home

That feeling
you know
just before the roller coaster drops
just before you take the leap
just before you fall
is a constant in me
hesitatingly lingering
vague and unrelenting
somewhere in the middle of my body
a cold sinking
a heavy dullness
that I can't cure

But sometimes
you know
There's a smile because of something I said
There's a hand that traces my arm
There's a certain look
and I forget that feeling
tentatively hoping
cautious and optimistic
that something like this could be recurring
a sweet hesitation
a growing relief
and it's all your fault

I see you on the kitchen bench
soaking wet
drying your shoes on the radiator
feet bare and ice cold
you make a joke
I sip my coffee
to hide my smile

We opened the windows
flies dead on the window sills
lace curtains
fifty years old
at your grandparents house
the weeds outside
reach almost to my waist

The smell of the elder tree
by the front porch
sweet and overpowering
old yellowed books
and playing cards laid out
in solitaire
A game I never win

When it rains
it pours
I count the drops
A million millions
Soaking wet
like it's all I've ever been

What's done
is done
And I know the difference
between knowing and guessing
I've always hoped
for thunderstorms in june

I watched as the ceiling caved in above me
Got bored trying to find a lock or a key
Stood untouched by the dust and the rubble
Just leave me to wallow in the stains and the trouble

Got a space shaped like someone beside me
But I'm way too wasted to look for an ally
I've seen a million faces show up and disappear
These times will keep changing and I'll still be here