All of this

Is it maybe possible
I finally don’t give a damn
Stooping to their levels anymore
Feeding from small hands

I curse the way I used to
Not roll with it baby
Standing crying in the vegetable aisle
Because big boys had their say

I cannot win these wars
Making my own enemies out of
Shadowed glances from empty cars

Instead she called me empty
Right into my face
So I smiled and thanked her for being
The image I’d already made

Is it maybe possible
I’ve grown into my own life
You all can’t define me
When the love is here inside

And yet I wake up on the floor
And push the table aside
I grope around for a silver spoon
Won’t someone turn on the light?

And I listen and I look and capture
All of this
So I can share it with the someone
Who won’t read it and hate it and
Take a piss

That someone I will never read to
Never talk about politics
Never share laughter or a

Moonlight salty guilty kiss
Never get to say I’m sorry

For all
of this

The carpet feels abrasive against my old and tired skin I push myself up with one asleep and reddened hand I reach up to the wallpaper my lonely hotel friend it’s New York city outside stories never end I cannot bear to listen on all fours I hang my head there are bugs crawling into my ears and another dying trend at least when they find my body

All the words I scribbled

All (they will)

of (have their)

this

They will have their say

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s