trying the poets’ existence
the dimension of beloved fools
carried away from wrong
carried away from reality

worshiping those same sins
with confused imaginations
like lovers again themselves
to be forgiven as the lot

I hear the past
laughing
calling
sobbing
and crawling
back on its filthy hands and knees
begging to get back in
clawing to get back in
crying out loudly
howling, chafing and aching
to get back in

I feel all right, and yet I feel all wrong
you look away, you say what you can
you’ve looked into my soul
now can you look into my eyes
and tell me what’s wrong with me
the way I am

a face from the past, always looking ahead
a different girl with a different name
you took hold of my hand
you can feel my hands
and have you also found a way
to feel my shame?

you’ve made me laugh, you’ve made me cry
you’ve shown me myself and a brand new start
you’ve carved your name
across my life, but why does it feel
as if you left the knife
here in my heart?

so just tell me to come to you, or stay away
I can’t seem to work this one out alone
we could be together if it’s what you want
if it’s what you need
still, I think I can make it from here
on my own

but if it’s my choice, I’ll see you again
hundreds of miles couldn’t stand in my way
but first tell me what’s wrong with me
the way I am
though they may be words I hoped to
never hear you say

fear and rearranged writing
committed, disgusting drinking
holding, expecting, waiting
even now, buried like
a promise in a graveyard
chaotic with my roses
reckoning nothing but
poisonous hopes and anger