the few parts of life that always tries to break me down; two eyes
red as tailgate lights – I’ve cried too much, now. a cut-open heart,
with these slow healing wounds to lick on; but let them look upon
you, as who you are, before they look you down

as I hold the keys to my human drive, filled with locations, times,
accidents, and monthly repairs – amongst daily commutes of
businessmen, who only take monthly communion – falling silent
to one’s busy ears, the silence told me, a friend is only a true friend
when they stand above being just a part of your peers

still, to any love I give is two loves I give – loving myself, by loving
the hands that crafted me as I am. please excuse my wet wrists –
I’m a tearful man who doesn’t cry much in public.