through misery and neglect
I kept on

for this I am thankful

because everything that has ever moved me
was pushing me one step closer
to you

I am the human
giving tree

and there's been a little boy
hanging off my branches
for far
too long

I have no apples left
just some twigs
and a
strong trunk

where someone
once carved their name
never to be
erased

now I realize
the nurses were right
there was no saving what was
already dead

what you wrote off
you pretend not to see
a memory erased from a white board
but the words still show themselves
from a certain angle
in a certain light

why acknowledge
what makes us human?
assuming time is wasted
as if plans
are more important
than the present

and that was it alone
a fear that grew
into a monster
with an appetite for two
built of past and future failures
lured back into hiding
by today's expensive distraction

twice I've known love
my first and my last
both from men who woke up as early as my father
inhaling a cigarette with their first conscious breath
beginning the day
with a groan of
dedication and discipline

one love came along when I was eighteen
another at twenty eight
my fragile legs carried me the duration
of a decade long marathon
searching for a finish line
with no guarantee of it's reality

now I hold a blue-eyed trophy
after I suspected my legs would
give out
and lead me
only to an
early grave

they say time
doesn't matter
as long as you finish
the race

there is nothing better than silence
where thoughts can be sorted
categorized
labeled
discarded
or dwelled upon

this (functional) anxiety
takes a free ride
over-burdening my back

the weight strains every muscle
I stretch to compensate
but my bones split and crack
quietly anticipating true paralyzation
like a patient waiting
for a root canal

peer inside
observe the chaos
adequate distraction
making sleep achievable
the master of redirection
my fumbling hands reach for
one more drink

second guess
everything

maybe it was better
when nothing mattered
nothing
at all

show me the way
back to that place
where giving a ****
was a lost art

little pink pills
designed to soothe the
overburdened mind

sleep never escapes me
serotonin has

or was I just a hamster
running in a wheel of
self destruction?

your imprisoned pet
to play with
only
when you felt like it

out of the arm of one love
and into the arms of another
I have been saved from dying on the cross
by a lady who smokes ***
writes songs and stories
and is much kinder than the last,
much much kinder,
and the *** is just as good or better.
it isn't pleasant to be put on the cross and left there,
it is much more pleasant to forget a love which didn't
work
as all love
finally
doesn't work ...
it is much more pleasant to make love
along the shore in Del Mar
in room 42, and afterwards
sitting up in bed
drinking good wine, talking and touching
smoking
listening to the waves ...

I have died too many times
believing and waiting, waiting
in a room
staring at a cracked ceiling
wating for the phone, a letter, a knock, a sound ...
going wild inside
while she danced with strangers in nightclubs ...
out of the arms of one love
and into the arms of another
it's not pleasant to die on the cross,
it is much more pleasant to hear your name whispered in
the dark.