Be patient with me
I’m still a work in progress

Somedays I seem put together
But that paint’s not dry just yet

One day I’ll get this right
I’m sorry

Yes you had the best of me,
You also had the worst
Sadly all you see
Or acknowledge
Is that you had the worst,
Complain ad infinitum
About the bad,
Never once admitted
The good

We have spoken of tacking
Our ships away,
Changing our divergence
From one mile
For every sixty sailed,
To one mile every mile
As we part at ninety degrees,

Having sailed close aboard
A few years with
Turbulent waters between
Our hulls
Offset by occassional beautiful
Moments of sunrise
And reddened dusk,

The sun is now more often
Obscured by storm clouds,
Black and angry,
Unfeeling and irrational,
Lightning-full and dangerous,
With fewer sunny moments
Or even any forecast

The wind is picking up,
And the waves have
White caps on their heads,
Spray bursts more often
Over my bow and the rain
Is freezing now
Time not to tack so much

As wear ship,
Turn away from the wind,
Give up the beat to windward,
Accept the futility
Of a fools errand,
Slamming into a sea that
Does not forgive nor want me,

Turn instead south,
Away from the teeth of
A gale driven by spite and ADHD,
Sail south and hope to find
A sunnier clime
Before my ship

Finally

Sinks

And many people,
Or maybe some,
A few perhaps,
Profess to like my work,
Riven as it is with broken hearts
And torn souls,
Oceans of tears and
Viscera damp upon the floor
Ripped from bodies wracked in pain,
But here's the thing,
I do not write for others,
Each word that bursts from my fingers,
My pen or often times
My keyboard,
With its burden of blood and pain,
Is writ for just one person,
Sometimes two,
Always me,
Always the author,
And sometimes the person whose
Hand was on the knife!

I keep telling you
Our courses are diverging,
And they are,
By another degree with
Every ****** row,
Every irrational rant,
I'm not sure quite
How many degrees apart
We are now because we
Sometimes correct a bit,
But more than one I think,
It doesnt matter though,
Because with each degree
And 60 miles travelled
I'll be a mile away,
We travelled four years
Thus far and even from a mile away
I won't hear you any more,
That is a mathematical certainty,
But your hand is on the wheel,
Of your ship
And so is mine on mine,
And soon it'll be time to tack.

From the perspective
Of improvement I can see
That there was a lot of
Darkness in me,
Or mayhap more an absence
Of light,

I am not,
Nor ever have been
A bad man,
But I have done many bad things
And things of which
I am ashamed,

I have lived in fear
And under the accrued
Accretion of a life lived
Thoroughly most surely,
If not always really
All that well,

Like a boat left too long afloat,
With a hull encrusted
With barnacles
And **** such
That good sailing is but
An impractical dream,

But now I have careened my life,
Hauled myself over on a beach
At low tide and scraped
My bottom clean,
Painted with the antifoul of faith
And returned myself to the builders spec,

You may not notice
The lack of ****,
The absence of barnacles or
My changed behaviour,
And thats okay,

You will however,
Even through your judgement,
Lack of forgiveness
And self important rage,
Notice most particularly

That I am gone