ain't it easy to do?
I know I do it too
the man with the contained smile
laughs
trapped bubbles surface the air as he
mocks the women on stage for calling themselves wildfires
as he sanctimoniously recites Dead Poets Society
seize the day, grab it by the throat and swallow it
drink the Latin into oblivion
hand reaching, stumbling, stalling, stop
I can’t go further
I weep eggshells for you to step on
The truth leaves residue like the
masochistic taste ******* leaves in your brain for days
trampled flowers left in a cackle
they’re right,
I don’t want to be a candlestick
the match is not needed because I’m not a ******* flame
There’s no use in burning
when will you understand?
just because the road is paved with knives
will not make your pain more tolerable
there could be a forest inferno in that chest of yours
for years, you could let it wallow and simmer
just to feel warm
but nothing will continue to grow
your angry resilience will be just that
angry
there’s a blaze of fury that you can start
a healing for those third degree burns
you so desperately cling to
because it’s better to be damaged goods than
fragile, vulnerable, a sensitive nerve
and I understand
but bathe in your own tears for a while
listen to the trickling of water from a bathtub call your name
kiss the rivers you know are capable of growing in you
flirt with the oceans that have missed your company
revel in the fact that you can be
delicate and equally dangerous
drink your water and know
that the poison will drain
and that the calm was meant to
hold you not rob you