One of the hardest things I've ever had to learn

Is that giving up

Control

Could be as easy

As letting out a breath.

But instead I selfishly hold all this oxygen
In these lungs.

And god knows,
I'd be ****** to save some for you.

So one day,
Beneath a bright blue, cloudless sky,
Embraced by the warmth of a loving sun,
Caressed by the smooth fingers of tall grasses,
You can find me.
Resting in mulch,
Still,
Peaceful,
Relieved,
                                                                                                                                          free

Rambling drunken thoughts at 7pm because

*******
For spending so much time trying to get me
Winning me
And abusing the prize

*******
For telling me I'm stupid
And mean
And steadily becoming less attractive

*******
For making me sick
For making every morning a terrible surprise
And every night so long and trying

*******
For making me feel like I could tell you anything
As I lick my wounds trying to limp away

*******
For ******* me
After expressing so much fear
That I would hurt you.

**** me
For falling for all those cliche ******* ******* lies
And stupidly laying on my back
While you tear out my entrails.

Oh how I love being this sopping wet piece
Of sludge sticking to these wood floors.
That dark, dry ****** color is sure to stick in your memory.
Is sure to stick to the bottom of your shoes.
Is sure to be that little piece of me you carry with you.

Trampling me forever.

It lived in the palm of my hand;
Small and heavy
Like a dense pebble,
Like the world's smallest boulder.

I held it out toward the sun,
So all the world could see
      this tiny little thing
Reaching for something more.

My arm grew tired.
My tricep started to quiver.
My bones started to chatter.
The boulder sat, bloated and bleached by sunlight.

50 years later
The boulder sits.
My arm has not moved.
It has grown strong.
It has grown still.
It has grown silent.

The boulder is bigger from dust.
It forged a dent in my palm,
Wearing its way through
Until it finally fell out the top of my hand.

And I strained my eyes to look through
     that round hole in my skin
With puckered skin and smooth edges,
And when I simply couldn't see it,
I resolved to lower my arm.

Down it went.
And with every move, pain accompanied.
The stiffness,
The ache,
The ****** of habit.

And this, my dear,
This boulder.
This is what we have become.

The heat turns cold
Sweat dries
Tears dry
Passion becomes reluctant complacency
Becomes apathy
Becomes fear of you loosening your grip on my wrist.

And we dissolve into ***
Because there isn't anything left to say
When moaning is the only way to communicate.

This was never love.
But we gave it a chance.
But you hid the sunlight
And I drowned it.
So here we stand in this muddy swamp
In the eye of the final storm.

The wind picks up.
The moss shifts.
The willows sway.

And here we sink.