When I was eight
I would fall asleep
in the corners
of my house
often left alone
because I felt
my bed
was the reason I could not sleep
I felt
like it knew
I wasn't worthy
of the pillow
or my sheets
or the cascade of
sunbeams
that would fall on my
face in the morning
just like they do now
I would walk around the house
empty and creaking
and I would walk into the kitchen
and hold a knife
to my stomach
with my reflection
in the granite counter top
and I would wonder
why I felt
that it was often better
to die than try to
deal
with my mind numbing
nothings
and the questions
they posed
I didn't know yet
people took their lives.
That people
felt these things sometimes
they had clouds
that would hang over heads
sometimes for months
I hadn't felt a loss
but still
I knew this ride
only had a one way
track
and I wanted off
It's heavy
to feel the heat
that runs through my
blood when I'm behind
the wheel of a car
or walking over
a bridge
it's difficult
to always see
ledges without
safety fences
and concrete columns
and not really understand why
the mineral mounds
in my brain
just aren't stacked the same
as Bill
or Jane
Because I've always known
this one track train
to not have a definitive escape
just a one way ticket
and only one lane
It's heavy to always
see ledges without
safety fences
and find some calm
some comfort in
that.