I’m sorry that I’m not okay enough to give you what you need
There’s a point when trying your best no longer matters unless
You actually succeed and I’m failing you; I’m not well; I wish
I was but all I want to do is feel something for once know how
It feels to grasp something and not let it run through your fingers
Like sand; I’m not dead inside; I’m very much alive, running
Savagely through my darkness away from what’s behind me;
I don’t know what’s behind; it looks like my childhood, like
My parent’s disappointment in me, the lack of everything; the
Problem isn’t because I’m scared. A building is set on fire inside
Me every day and every day I have to find a way to put it out
And save what remains of that building; charred black oak,
Crumbling walls, a roof torn wide open left on its tendons;
Photos outlined by carbon and touched by the flames leaving
Traces of embers and Polaroid ash; negatives were use as fuel
Every time it’s the same building, the same house; the house
That I grew up in; the house that’s still there; Why do I keep
Trying to put it out when I know what I really want
Is to watch that ******* burn;