Alexander Hamilton could write
like nobody's business,
while I'm sitting in lamplight
in the dim city,
and I can't even use
the resources I've been given,
nor take advantage of the
time I have
like he did.
And I have plenty of time,
I'm not running out of it,
just running out on life.

My love,
         take your time
It's all yours,
         take it off my hands
         (which bleed with it)
And if you prefer to steal it,
         that is not a crime,
         but peel your affection
         (layer by layer)
         from my heart
         (slowly)
         See how I've given you
A head start?

I'll follow you
(You seem to know
    where you're going)

I'll chase you
(You've got speed)

As long as I'm not forced to
(play this
     game with you)

And later
I might even get loose with you
(You know
    where to park)

The worst part is
I don't need to make amends
because I didn't
do anything wrong.
Not in my whole life.

I've done nothing
to earn years beyond my age.
You can only believe my words
mean something,
you can only feel something,
you can't make it exist.

Always on a dark, rainy morning
I’m waiting for release
Want to go outside,
Scream to be taken out for a walk,
Bark at my leash
Want real release
Because my chin is up now
And I’m quiet
Ready to see some terrible
Work getting done
Waiting for something to happen
I’m tired of outer peace
I long for a close encounter
Or a thousand fights
Blood released
Sweat released
Tears released
Not just internally

There isn’t a cup of tea large enough
Or a book long enough
To suit me either

But you’re old and dead and religious
Like classic literature,
And your legacy reaches all like me,
But not me.
I’d follow a lion anywhere.
Just not where I’m supposed to be.