Want to hold you so close
But I'm stuck, they say
Love one but not both
I cannot seem to love that way

I miss both of you with
so much intensity
how can you compare
two beautiful souls
two human beings?
Choose?
Why must I pick what feels wrong
Even though
It is what feels right?
Because the other feels just
as wrong.

Maybe I'll bury my head underwater
Try not to think
About decisions
As bubbles escape
from my nose.



Cannot settle on
Such shaky surfaces.

I hate that the words
Don't come anymore.
I despise how desire
Has fled.

I cannot create anything,
No inspiration,
No relief.

Nothing releases me.
And I'm stuck
In the empty nothingness.

Numbers on the paper
Fall flat inside my head.
I can't seem to calculate
a single word he said.

Algebra's not much my style.
You cannot write a book
with numbers, fractions, percentages
of which I would want to look.

My father's big on math sense.
His goal to make me see
the greatness of these numbers
which, simply, cannot be.

So sit up in front, if you wish,
I'll take a seat in back.
Hiding behind Big Joe
With a book laid in my hands.

I must choose
Between my father's happiness
                     and mine.
Knowing all is in good cause
But lifting a finger to say
Just cause I've been raised
By this man,
In this house,
On this bridge,
For connections of heart,
I have to
Am expected to
Make the same decision?

They make sponges of young
Take advantage
And force them to believe
Make them go to church
Of the same religion
that befalls
of their parents.
etc.

But I am a free heart
destined to make my
own choice
My mother saved me
from this prison,
This brainwashing
So I will defend my right.
I see the looks of
dissapointment.
But in my mother's eyes
there is triumph.

Then I fall back to:

"You are my last chance
of not being a failure
as a father."

He's always there
You see him from the corner of your eye
He's ust livin there
to put you down
So when you come around
he can let your words
hit his invisible
force field,
change to steel,
and pelt in your direction.
You want ot give him
that box of poisonous crackers
he deserves
But that will just earn
you another invisible bruise
on your left arm.
So give him all you got
In your heart, your mind, your soul
but make sure it stays there
To
The sad little guy that lives in the corner.

The old tainted laamp
Waits on the wood
Where wall meets wall.
Waiting
for a lightening bolt to strike
in me.
Waiting for uniqueness
to flow.
Giving something as
noticable as the glow it once shed.
Yet storms are
delaying waiting for
their moment
to wake me up.
But as we both wait
for the unique
We'll just
sit
and stare
at each other.