You are in the process of self destructing.
You are breaking your hands and arms
Trying to hang onto someone who doesn’t want you.
Breaking your back
That give you little in return.
All you asked was that I called.
“You should come by and check up on us more often.”
You said this but to no avail.
I allowed the workload of life to be my excuse
As if you haven’t experienced it too,
I nodded off the notion that you were becoming frail.
But I knew.
Yet I didn’t visit enough because I knew you’d have me move some furniture again.
I claimed it was “out of the way” and instead drove to see some friends.
Those are things I could never change.
Needless to say,
Death called you before I did.
Sometimes I’ll trade these people for trees
And gravel for dirt beneath my feet
Trade standing in line for wading in ponds
And give up conversations to listen to bird songs.
I can hear the movement of the unknown in the distance.
The stars here glow a little different,
With more purpose.
Red is the blood that drips from tortured black bodies and their tormented souls.
White is the privelage and peaceful state of mind.
Blue collar workers discovered power they’re not all responsible enough for.
This is the American flag I’ve pledged my allegiance to all these years.
“They call it the American Dream because you have to be asleep to believe it” – George Carlin
The first 60 seconds are peaceful.
Birds sing their song with such carelessness.
The slight breeze calms me.
I allow my eyes to close as I withdraw from the busyness.
The second 60 seconds brings unease.
The noise I hear envelops me.
The breaths I take no longer steady.
I’ve successfully panicked for no clear reason.
I’ve listened to every love song imaginable. Fantasized about fatherhood and envisioned a family.
I’ve chased this dream and left a trail of ruins.
Seldomly looking back to help the ones I’ve hurt
I’ve tried to love and failed.
But to love, is to be vulnerable
and vulnerability and I have never seen eye to eye.
I can’t even let people in past a certain surface level.
But you, you could level me with your eyes.
You admitted you were as cold as ice.
You briefly allowed me hold you.
It shocked me a little
You melted on contact with my palm.
You slipped through my fingers
I wasn’t surprised.
I wonder how many crayons I broke in half
attempting to draw the perfect picture.
One that looks so life-like.
Attempting to color you back in my life like
this rainbow never used to be black and white.
I’ve become sketches and outlines.
This plateau used to be alpines.