When mom was dying,
she felt like everything
she'd worked for
was gone.

She showed me Life
as Its steward
and Death
as Life's reward.

How to lean into
the unknowable
whether I want to
or not.

That our deeds,
carved meticulously into
the bedrock of Forever,
are immortal.

It becomes clearer
that our work
is not for us,
but for It.

This life
is service;
only what we give
is truly ours.

Taste of blood
lingering, flesh still
against the tongue.

Bound tight, the willing
neck in the noose
swallows.
All continuity
sprawls forth.

This Truth
we keep Secret
is the burden
of the throat.

Love too strong for
those who bear it
is a curse invoked
by a deficit of worth.

It is not enough to
seek validation through
a proxy designated
Heaven on Earth.

With no center of gravity,
no anchor in character,
obsession is the limit
of the capacity to love;

Projecting impossible
desires and untenable
expectations amounts
to blasphemy of.

True love may not be
forever or easy;
parting may never
be pleasant to bear;

Love is not merely
what's pleasing or comfortable;
love is a crucible;
love is not fair.

Those fleeting failures
and moments of error
are chances at triumph,
a challenge to change.

Breaking our boundaries,
ballooning outward:
love is inevitably
savage and strange.

Unbefitting to cling
to the bridge that enables
a star in its wand'ring
to cross the abyss;

To carry the ballast
of vast insecurity
over that chasm,
untenable risk;

Or swallow the poison
of foolish dependence
on whimsical paramours,
obesiance thereof,

To be hung from the neck
by detestable premises,
weak and debased
by untenable love.

The only place in the world
where I almost
stepped on a syringe
on the beach

My father said,
"I don't love you
unconditionally."

I heard,
"I'm not ready to love
unconditionally."

Success is
learning the things
he couldn't.

"I'm so complicated!"
he said, exasperated.
But really,
he was too young
to understand himself.