Sometimes I really want to take a scalpel to my chest
And just start
Slicing

But that could be
Dangerous

You never know
What might come
Spurting out

Please
Please ask me questions
Not just any question though
Pointed questions
Specific questions
Because the truth is
No
I don't say much
I listen
I care
I respond
But when you ask about me
I'm quiet
Nothing is new
You don't get to know me
But it's not because I don't want to tell you
It's not because I don't trust you
It's because
How are you doing?
Is way too open ended
What's new?
Has too many options

Each time your lips part
Spitting out an attempt
To reach me
The debris
It accumulates
Fast
Furious
Like the remains after a hurricane
Giant logs, pieces of homes, shattered lights
They shoot to the surface
My surface
Attacking my limbs
Penetrating the delicate insides of my head

I can't think

I don't know where to start
I don't know what you want to know
I don't know where the line is
If there even is a line

So many memories
Clutter the floor of my mind
Most,
Of no relevance whatsoever
I mean
What should I say?

Should I tell you about
The time she forced me to lick chocolate syrup off his junk
While tears burned at the corners of my eyes
Eventually overflowing
Chiseling their way across my cheeks
Sliding off my chin
Slipping down
My tiny, bare body
That shook like
Streamers in the wind
Should I tell you about
The time she bit my ****** so hard
It bled for days
About how I held a tissue to it all night long
Praying desperately
To a God I wasn't even sure existed
About how
It scarred
About how
I am terrified to ever stand naked in front of anybody
In the light
Because they will see
Should I tell you that
After digging out just those two stories alone
I can't see the screen in front of me
Because water is obstructing my view

What should I tell you?
What should I say?
There are too many things
Too many potential answers
And they are all right there
Right here
Clouding my vision
Blocking my path
A strip of duct tape
Slapped across my mouth

It's in this moment
My mind goes blank
I stare ahead
I make something up
I smile
I say everything is great

But it's not
Everything is not great
Everything is the opposite of great
Everything is crashing down on top of me
Crushing me

I can't see even an inch in front of my face

I can't see
I can't think
I can't answer

I can't

So ask me questions
Please
You won't offend me
Please
Guide me
Give me some type of direction to follow
Some light to jump at
Something to help me sort through the wreckage

I can't just
Talk
I don't work like that
I've spent most of my life
Silent

But I will talk

I have plenty to say

Never
Have I ever asked you to be there
But you're always there

It's not that
I'm too nice to say no
To shut you down
And walk away

If I wanted to
I would
I could
I've done it before
I'm not afraid

No, that's not it

It's that
I'm not sure

What I'm really afraid of
Is passing up
Something good
Missing something
Right in front of me

I love adventures
I love risks
I love to be proved wrong
And I'm not sure of much
But I am sure
You deserve a shot
I'm curious
I'm not ready to say no
Not quite yet

Too many times
God has surprised me
Too many times
He has
Shaken me
Flashed neon signs
Flipped tables

Until finally
I understand what he wants
Until finally
I let him guide me
180 degrees
In the opposite direction

But sometimes
My love of adventures
My openness
My willingness to try
Overshadows His voice
Sometimes
Too often
I push it too far
Without even recognizing it

I'm also afraid of that
Pushing forward when there is no where else to go
Pushing forward when
In reality
I'm only headed
Back

My mind is already open
Now if I could just open my ears
And listen

But my ears,
They seem to be stuffed full
With impenetrable cotton *****
The lobes
Folded over
Glued to the tips
Stapled shut
For good measure

Everything is
Distorted
Muffled

All I hear are
Whispers
Small tendrils of noise
Silently slipping by

It's like I'm under water
And the words are stuck in the air
Jammed in the clouds
Floating away from me

Four and a half children die
Each day
The statistics say

This is a terrible problem
You say
You urge your employees to listen
To listen well
To watch for the warning signs
To prevent it
Yes, please
This is a problem
Each day
Four and a half children die
Because of child abuse

What if I told you
Your problem is bigger
So much bigger
Exponentially larger

Yes,
I would argue
That number needs to be
Adjusted

More like
Hundreds of thousands
Of Children
Die
Each day

As they are
Neglected
When then they should be loved
Verbally torn down
When they should be built up
Touched
Where they shouldn't be touched
They die
Slowly, painfully
They are
Alienated
Slowly, painfully
They sink away
Flipping inside out
Caving in
Only in their very depths
Do they find anything
Even remotely resembling
Solace
They are
Confused
They are
Angry
They are
Alone

There is no one
No one to talk to
No one to trust

At some point
Their senses cease to exist
They stop tasting
They stop smelling
They stop seeing
They stop hearing
They stop

Feeling

And everything goes
Black and
Numb

So they stumble
Eyes closed
Arms flailing
Thrusting there head above the waves

Sure, they're still breathing
But they're not
Alive

We all carry a picture
Some of these pictures are adorned with the likes of a fancy frame
Others, no frame at all
But each of us walks around dragging a picture behind us
A picture of what our life is supposed to look like
Painted diligently by the brush of our best intentions
It's a great secret
One of the deepest secrets of humanity
That in the end,
None of our lives turn out the way
We thought
Or imagined
And then
We get angry, confused, frustrated
We punch holes straight through our pictures
We tear them into shreds
We cry over the loss of our picture
But the truth is
No matter how carefully we pay attention to detail
No matter how long we spend
We can't paint our future stroke for stroke
We don't have that much power
As much as we sometimes wish to believe
Otherwise
Most of life is simply
A reaction to circumstances
Sometimes
The best thing we can do is
Destroy our picture
Start fresh
And paint
A new stroke
A new color
Each day
As we move and breath
And take what comes

Sometimes,
When you're sitting on the ground
Alone
And the tears are streaming down your cheeks
Creating caverns
Digging deep into your flesh
Hot and clear and razor sharp
In these moments,
The sadness
The pain
It's caused not just by the bad memories
But also the good ones
The good memories
You know won't happen
Ever again
The good memories that are
Forever
Stuck in the corners of the past,
Corners that are filling with dust and cobwebs
At an exponential rate
Corners that,
With every tick of the clock
Seem to speed further and further
Out of reach
Out of sight

But never out of mind