Where?
Where does misery end
and
happiness begin?
I'm now certain
the line does not reside
at the bottom of a bottle.
I've finished many
to find nothing but an empty vessel.
I've chain smoked my way
through a thousand packs
to find myself still wanting.
I've loved.
I've hated.
And still I have to ask
where?
Where is the line one crosses
into happiness?
Into peace.

One night,
while on some tremendously great acid.
I watched the snow fall,
ever so softly,
illuminated by street lights.
It was the most beautiful thing,
I'd ever seen.
And truly,
it had very little to do with the drugs.
It was beautiful because...
Because I was there,
and because it was real.

It's always been difficult,
for me to communicate.
Friends, family, whomever,
I can't always express what I want,
or how I would want to.
I'll sit stern and stoic,
and tell all the people I know that,
I am fine.
Than I go home,
and between choking sobs explain to the dog,
or the cat,
what it is that ails me so.
The dog just stares,
the cat just purrs,
but I find more solace in that,
than the words of anyone I know.
Is that so strange?

I formed a personal goal.
I swore I'd be a more peaceable
a more centered man.
For a while I had maintained it well but
but now I'm finding I crack under the pressure
of what is a pseudo serenity.
A restrained anger
does not constitute a lack of it.  
I can't help but think
maybe rage hurts you
and maybe peace just adds another weight
on the back of a modern Atlas.
What more than the world can one hold atop his shoulders?

My heart weeps for those lost,
those yet to lose.

I have a friend
who likes to tell me
that I have a calming aura
as his litter of stray kittens
proceeds to envelop me
on my arrival.
As his dog lays at my feet.
Sometimes
I like to think he's right
that I exude peace and kindness.
Other times
I think maybe I just attract the sad and broken
the weak and needy.

I don't necessarily
think highly of myself
but
I live with an old dog
and a young cat
to whom I am the world.
Sometimes
I doubt my strength
but
I live with an old dog
and a young cat
both of which view me as their rock.
Sure
the dog whines constantly
poor ******* has arthritis
and sure
the cat's a little wild
I did scoop her up
crippled and alone
in front of my house.
And sure
sometimes I feel alone and broken
but I come home
to an old dog
and a young cat
and a small piece of my heart
finds its' way back.