Swollen fingers, fevered head,
Pressure and tearing of purple veins.
Pills, side effects,
All this pain to join this living race.

The peloton far, far ahead,
And here I climb a slick *****,
Thinking: I can’t manage,
I don’t cope anymore.

Bills sharpen, sharky credits circle,
No funds to stand upright.
Sweaty forehead, stomach clenched.
How good that with a smile,
Still carrying a tender, loving heart inside.

It does not matter where I was placed,
What name I bear, where I am from.
I am with myself 24 hours a day,
No vacations from endless thought.

With words I cut,
I healed what was ash,
Waiting for redemption
Even if I failed a thousand times.

I recognize myself in every human face:
In tightened lips and widened pupils.
As much tenderness as cruelty,
As many warm nights as skies of lead.

I have never wanted to be a false saint
Only tangible punched letters on the page
Still scrubbing my scrawled future
And hope that tomorrow
I can do it just a little
better.