Following Friday's sins,
I'd usually sleep in.
That Saturday Mammy called up;
There was Daddy dripping blood,
Clinging to his thumb.
He was stubborn.
He sat back,
I drove fast,
And left him in emerg.
Hours later,
Back at home,
The phone.
The power switch
Was already off,
But on the floor,
Next to the saw,
I saw the thumb
Lying strangely alone,
The skin, the nail, the bone.
He died incomplete.
His stump was a talisman.
Grandkids got a kick from it
Asking him to count to ten.

You see, I like putting things down
My desk remains as cluttered
as my confusing social dance card
so I'm always dropping something
Things have always felt clumsy
in my hands
rather
I have always found the act of holding
to be clumsy
A sentence structure
a train of thought
a plan, slippery

Even now, it feels better
to lean over the notebook laying open
on my stomach level bed and
simply spill
these insecurities
and analytic gratuities
onto the page
rather than house their possibilities
for even one more second

And we both know
that as the ink dries on the page
it ***** all of the you out of the air
that otherwise would, and now again will, taste so stale
And I only said we both know
because that one sounds a lot better
with some backup
And maybe for the same reason
that I have never seen my father ask for directions
I feel much better knowing where I left the compass
than which way is north
And maybe for the same reason
that some things we talked about were never said
I feel like these messages can carry these encryptions
flimsy as they may be
But maybe they cannot.

I have oh so many thoughts and feelings,
Hundreds and thousands,
Millions and billions,
But can i put them into words?
No
Not at all
*Never

To go to sleep upset.
No words will be met.
Our silence is clear enough.
Like a duet.
We share this stage.
Full of rage.
And can't admit it.

It was always the "good night"
That makes you leave
Impatient for the sun
To come and for you to see
How it steals your darkness
From those eyes of yours
But you always keep it closed
And walk the road alone

I took the path less travelled by,
and found to my chagrin
that the path I walked was paved in good intentions
and devoid of friend and kin.

Though in walking those trails, I only meant well,
The herd is the entity that most oft prevails;
The lion devours the lone gazelle,
who of the well worn path did not avail.

It's always been easy
To see your spark
That causes the glowing embers
Inside of me
But it was always a temporary thing before,
A lovely thing I would tend to cling to
Even when the world conspired against me.
I am alive tonight,
With wires flickering in my being
And your absence in this bed tonight
Strong.
I was never one to succumb to love
But I will succumb to you,
O wretched destroyer of my walls.
Because of you
I have stepped from my comfort zone
Into uncertainty,
Into obscurity.
How vain it is
That I say we are the cult film
Amid others so dry and lame.
Classic rock music
Teaches girls like me
To stay away from men like you
But today I am proud of my
Stubbornness.

the walls you've built
were made of stubborn bricks
and were very high
but i will take down
one brick at a time
though it would not be easy because you're just as stubborn as the bricks
but i won't give up
because i am stubbornly in love with you

Arguing*
     with me

Is like
        Arguing

With a
      **BRICK
       WALL