I was not blessed with rhythm,
Was not born to set things free,
Still working with the wine and the ****,
No longer dancing cheek to cheek.

She was the puzzle piece that did not fit,
The sound of the rain, the snow, and the sleet,
The white-noise lullaby that permeated summer
And invaded all my dreams.

Now I’ve given up on love and war,
I have nothing left to fight,
No reason to stay sober,
It keeps me warm at night.

It gets me loose in the crowd,
It keeps me spinning in my place,
Think I spoke to a beautiful woman last night,
Only, I can’t remember her face.

I know you feel it too, my friend,
On your phone in a crowded room,
Checking your exits everywhere you go.
Yet you stay for the company,
You stay for that minuscule chance
Of a late-night spoon.

You stay out for the hope
That you will not miss out,
You drink to forget,
To white-wash self-doubt.

You hear the beautiful music
And although you’re set free,
There’s an ache in your heart, saying,
No beauty could come from me.

I was not blessed with composure,
All the subtlety I lack,
But no man is perfect-
We’ve all got a hideous *******.

I’m a slave to my *****,
I’m a slave to my cravings,
Cigarettes, *****, and late-night food,
until I've spent all my savings.

I’m a slave to the working day,
To the white-noise thoughts
That rattle my brain,
To the chemical feast
And the paltry remains,
The scratch-card defeat,
The guessing games,
I’ve grown up now
And I’ve grown up strange,

I am not blessed with charisma,
I am not blessed with a tongue
That can say what it means,
It just runs and runs and runs...

I’ve been walking in circles and complaining
That I will never find my place,
So many fruits to pick out from the tree
That I stop and stare,
Watch them all go to waste.

I was not blessed with rhythm,
Was not born to set things free,
But you’ll come to like me
If you sit a while
And spend some time with me.

I'm lost
when I find myself
I'll come back for you

XXXIV

With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee
As those, when thou shalt call me by my name—
Lo, the vain promise! is the same, the same,
Perplexed and ruffled by life’s strategy?
When called before, I told how hastily
I dropped my flowers or brake off from a game,
To run and answer with the smile that came
At play last moment, and went on with me
Through my obedience. When I answer now,
I drop a grave thought, break from solitude;
Yet still my heart goes to thee—ponder how—
Not as to a single good, but all my good!
Lay thy hand on it, best one, and allow
That no child’s foot could run fast as this blood.

A smile because the nights are short!
  And every morning brings such pleasure
Of sweet love-making, harmless sport:
  Love that makes and finds its treasure;
  Love, treasure without measure.

A sigh because the days are long!
  Long, long these days that pass in sighing,
A burden saddens every song:
  While time lags which should be flying,
  We live who would be dying.

I’m as old as you
You’re as old as me
We should not be
Deceived
By everything
That we see

Sean Hunt