We all have what it takes..
some,
like Moses.

Said Hamlet to Ophelia,
'I'll do a sketch of thee,
What kind of pencil shall I use,
2B or not 2B?'

I've lost myself
in myself.

The gods gave you these feet to run, run, run. Walk, stumble, fall. Stand.
The gods gave you these feet to break, to heal, to wander all your days

When your pretty face holds those bright eyes to the ground,
Walk, walk, walk
They can't take that from you

This dirt road has been travelled
But these grass roots are waiting for you

When these feet can take no more, the gods will call you home
Still but ever-moving,
You are the wanderer
The gods wait to meet the hands that match those feet

Do you remember the day
                                                    you killed your mother

         the day the apple turned rotten.

Do you remember how
                                                    you killed your mother
        how you crushed a cigarette in her heart.

And how about
                                                   your father
          with his sturdy knees and smooth thumbs

Do you remember breaking him
                                                    for youth
           and forever


They love you


Do you remember them?

To such a day as one like this
I begin to think my life’s a gift
Blowing softly and caressed so sweet
Every moment is a splendid treat

I may be lonesome and without a friend
But at least I breathe and am not dead
I may have little, still more than some
There is no reason I can be glum

Pain shoots through me like lightning in a tree
Still, there are others who have it worse than me
I can walk, trot, dance and sing and breathe
The hardships of others, you would scarce believe.

So breathe it all in cause this may be the last
You know how time is, it ticks rather fast

inappropriate name at it's best---
because they refuse to hold halves together
and hammers aren't the best choice of tools
and who nails a fingernail?

like twilight on icy mountains,
although the sky's colors come from flesh
and not reddened sunlight,
and the snow is empty as air

inconspicuously (fashionably) hidden skyline---
by color, but still there, granted
half-moons, waiting for dimethyl ketone relief

small as they come
unappreciated, underlooked---
as common and human as blood.

the will to live

hey brother,

i feel you.
i feel you so much, i cant even look at you.

you should know,
it passes.
the shame you wont feel.

it changes to something else.
i swear its true, i wouldn't lie to you brother.

nobody owes you a thing
despite what you want to believe.

so, man up.