worry

it was blinding when i drove, but
that sunshine was wasted on the day
that god deemed to brim with tears
collecting on the edges of coffee cups.

i came like i knew i would
like a rescuer, a sort of savior
even with holes in my palms it
turns out i can give a fuck.

later on i kicked the dresser until
it gave way, or maybe until my toes did
i was angry at being helpless to help
and afraid of being afraid of being afraid.

so we learn that nothing is as stoic,
nothing as toxic as compassion.
lifting and carrying and carrying on
through everyone's cracks -
even your own -
forcing you to face yourself
when you just aren't enough.

Time

A new adventure
A new hobby
A new life of sorts

All wrapped up in time.
tImE.
TIME.
time.

it is the currency of our life
and with it we measure our lives.

we:
buy it.
sell it.
trade it.
steal it.
sleep through it.
harass it.
Mistake it for something else.
we THROW IT AWAY.

and, jesus, if we could stop it.
if only we could stop it. pause it. reverse it.

well, Jesus would still be alive.
and not just him
-Every hero that ever died.

Struggles (and fighting the undertow)

There is no real relief in
releasing these things that cause me strife

but,

there is a confidence in being able
to look into her eyes and know
that she knows my deepest struggle

There is no one-stop cure,
Just endurance and Learning
and trust
-you know you have it when
you look into those eyes

and you see love

the side of a bed
it's quiet and cold outside the sheets
heart leaks

the inside of my head
thunder and lightning fighting in turns
stomach churns

the palm of my hand
so delicate and childlike, ever curious
mind furious

the height of a plan,
carefulness, confidence disolved by a look
world shook

my legs and the strides underneath

these are my arms, this is my mind
and i am my own body.
the cotton on my skin acts as a shell
and it won't tell you what's behind my eyes
or why i'm slouched in coach class seat E
watching the great American plain
roll away beneath me.
there's just something i have to try and fix
or at least hold in my wrinkled palms
until the bleeding has stopped.
the tapping anxiety in my feet
makes it clear this is urgent
but i'm no surgeon, this is no ambulance
and a thousand miles can't be trifled with.
so i rest my weary head on my knees
to let the time slip away
until my hands find the wound.

A better chance

sometimes I wonder if I looked at that picture
while standing in the exact place where I was in that picture,
that the gods would recreate the moment around me
and I'd be able to turn my head just a fraction of an inch
and tell you how much I appreciate you
I could tell you million instances where I thought
I was near my down fall but my hatred for kept me going
I could tell you about those hard nights when
I missed you until my heart hurt and I cried
and how I started emulating you-before I started to resent you
I would expound on all the times I dreamed you were off at some
war, or protesting, or dead
that one always made me feel a little guilty
I could tell you all about the times where I doubted you
cared for me at all.
the honesty would be exhilarating and eventually
I'd get to telling you about how I think you're looking for success the wrong way
I'd cite articles and police records and old high school transcripts
and tell you what I'd spent nights re imagining your life to look like
and then I'd tell--after all that
That I love you, and that I don't think about your future anymore than mine anymore
--it could all be a mistake but then there will be a better chance

Drowned for the night

my heart stutters a bit every time the cool night air hits my face
you think I'd be used to it by now.
but here we are out in the excited night air
puffing away talking of the regrets we'll always have later,
of the regrets we are all too sure we'll never have

we talk about friends and life and family
mostly the things that we're not proud of
and couldn't help anyway
and sometimes there are pauses
where there's the troubled pattern of feet
because of the uneven slates of sidewalk
raised up by the protest of tree roots

I think the park looks questionable,
but who would attach two college kids trespassing and playing tetherball?
It's not long before I declare your unfair advantage of height
and the game becomes a thinking tool
as i watch. we're talking about commitment
oh, that again

the room isn't moving, that's just how the room
thinks it wants to move when it gets uncomfortable
from my staring,
but when you;re on your back and your eyes won't close
you don't have much choice so you look
and you talk

you say things, quietly at first and then more so
and then you feel the warmness and
sometimes the feeling dissipates
and then the cool night air hits your face again
and it all comes rushing back
and you're drowned,
drowned for the night.