Thinking about myself makes my stomach churn.
Not because I am sickened by myself, but because I am sick of myself.
When I think of something positive; my mind conjures three failures.
When I think of all the happiness I create; I think of all the pain I cause.
I ponder on how far I have come; then remember the long road a head.
If I dare believe I am loved and worthy; someone reminds me I am begrudged.

Her scent is left faded yet not forgotten,
A tarnish in my deepest soul,
The sillage of your presence
Lingers ever more.   Could I ever ask you to return?
Absolutely,
But I fear the darkness of rejection,
More than never knowing.

My wanderlust is for now sustained;
I have a tendency for vagary,
A solivagant nature in my blood.
I hope my last departure is final,
But I have much more adventure in me.
For now, tacenda is my hearts' content.

Corn stalks shine in the horizon,
Like a million tiny suns.
Sitting on the fender of your truck,
As the pink flush of evening,
Settles across the land like a blush
On the face of a very flat world.
"Shame he went out like he done,
Was a good boy, him."
I say nothing and stare a head,
The black asphalt in front on me
Bore down like a river,
Black and empty.
"Fall's coming on.
Figured I'd take a trip east to see the leaves."
I say nothing,
Just let the sadness of an old man crash over me,
I could almost pretend I could see ripples
On the black pavement, hear it in the corn.
Whispers, whispers in the August breeze.
"We used'ta plow this alone,
Every October, me brother and I,
Not gonna be the same this year."
The old man slides off the fender,
And I head for the passenger seat.
"Not gonna be the same, That's for **** sure."

He cupped my head in his hand,
And his fingers wove into my hair.
"You are so beautiful,"
I smile up at him,
I close my eyes
And he kisses my eyelids.
I lay on my back in the scratchy sheets,
Feel the sensation of a cool breeze
Wafting through the window,
And I feel an abstract sense of peace.
He shifts, gently dropping my head
Into the cavern of the pillow.
He rolls over beside me,
He exhales deeply and I imagine the mountains that
Are his shoulders,
And valley of lean muscles on his back,
Imagine an earthquake,
Moving mountains with a breath.