Sometimes
life seems like a series of repairs
A broken binding
a fractured wrist
a cracked heart.
My repair kit is always open.
From spare screws needed on touring days
where the sun beats down
a headache my eyes can't hide from
To ratchet straps teasing my hands into frustration
by their inablity to work right.
To the blind faith I hand away my love with
that usually leaves my lips smarting and my heart fractured
just a little bit more.
Repairs **** sometimes.
They **** even more then when things completely shatter.
When things break
there is peace in knowing you cannot do anything to fix it.
Broken bits fall to memory
new things, ideas, materials are assembled
and you are given a fresh start.
In contrast a recurring problem, a repair
is draining on the mind and soul, a constant ache on ones psyche.
A blackhole for my lightheartedness
A wormhole my happiness falls into.
Repairs **** sometimes.
And as I sit here
a ***** driver in one hand, a needle in the other and a airbag of frustration
expanding in my chest
I ponder the worth my projects of "improvement" hold.
How many times do I attempt to fix something that has already failed
countless times before?
When the straps slip no matter how many times I tighten them?
When my board bites my calfs no matter the stiched support I give it?
When my pulse trips despite the words spoken to end it..
Repairs **** sometimes.
And if I ever come across something I cannot fix
I will break it.
Just so I will never have to look at the problem again.