She absently plays
with the stitches across
her lips.
Her eyes
have more sky
than sky.
Laughter like wind chimes
she holds out her hands
to collect the rain
hides all her light
where nobody is allowed
and I’ve walked past her a million times
a million times.
I don’t know
where the light is
anymore
in all of this running around.
Grace
has left me
and I’m still young
bent from callous, careless hands
left
a beaten graffitied trashcan
turned over and
motionless at the mouth of an alley.
There is always a child
screaming into my ear
from somewhere deep inside.
It’s not what it used to be
and the pain-killers
are killing me.
I wish that I could
close the door
shut the windows
keep you out
all of you
not let you in
-this feeling this feeling
rises
like the angry voice
of the night city.
I’ve carved my words
through heart
and from wounds
my endless rage
and my way
through endless everything.
Eyes darkened,
child,
I can finally see through the night.
Breathless,
I wait for the sun.
As dreams leave me
like waves receding from a beach
I am left with the worry
that I have inherited from my mother
and since there is no one tool
that would fix all of my problems
I dart between them
like a hummingbird amongst flowers
not coming up with anything
but madness
I am left to fixate on a
corner of the ceiling
lit by the pale light of
an alarm clock
that’s dripping minutes
all over my tired face.
Sometimes when life is
kicking your ass
it just wants to grab you
by the balls too.
Old habits hang like nooses
brushing against my throat
against my thoughts
tightening across everything that I’ve become.
I’m sorry that we fight like this
but fighting is what
everything has taught me
to do.
Sometimes I want to break down like an old car
because of everything that has built up
but Father would be disappointed.
Sometimes I feel that everything
I work so hard for
is for nothing
even though I still cling to it
like a rabid junkyard dog
mauling an old bone
growling at the sun.
Let’s be honest
being human is terrifying
but you can’t show them
that you’re weak or afraid
not anybody
not for one second.
But I can talk to you, right?
I would like it if I could talk to you
about me
about you
about nothing
about everything…
it helps to keep the sinewy rats away
from my soul.
It’s hard to look back
when you are running through a night forest
without a light when you are sure that there is
something coming after you but you are not sure
what it is.
As the branches whip mercilessly across your wounded face
as you scramble to find footing knowing that
if you were to stumble and fall just once
whatever was mere steps behind you
would embrace that opportunity
to completely tear you apart.
As your heart thumps hard against your chest
as your breath aches but still you recklessly plant
one foot before the next and struggle to keep pace
you run and you run and you continue to run when
you don’t even know where it is that you are going
but it doesn’t matter as long as you endure
as long as you keep going and stay ahead
of whatever it is
that is chasing you.
It’s hard to look back
when you don’t know what you’re looking at.
It’s hard to look back
when all that you know is fear.