We sometimes want what will not help…
We seek the lights that will melt our hands
Fingers stretching to touch the gold;
Grasping flames not meant to hold…
We sometimes trust what is always wrong…
Freeing floods deeper than our souls,
Lamenting as we cannot float
Cries for mercy cut off by mill-stones
We trap ourselves then weep for home.
Whoa, what bitterness is this
Whose twisted thoughts have I trekked in?
Surely this darkness isn’t mine,
This want for aching, wasted time
Someday I’ll be solid, healed
Someday the nightmares won’t be there to steal
If the nights are silent, the days reveal
Endless screaming from the ones repealed
Some time night and day alike
Will toss their haunting-juggling storms
And all the worry and fear I despise
Can. I drift. Away. Someplace
Calling friends new and old
Can I float down every stairwell
Ever built, destroyed, or wrought to sell
Can I curl up inside my wretchedness
Among the thoughts that call me
Can I give in to the pounding rain
That floods my brain and calls my name
Can I let it drown me again?
Who will stop me if I let them in?
Who doesn’t, won’t, and wants to be
Could I, would we, sweet disease
Want a new dollar, a shiny time-piece?
Me and my people can never be free.
As I sit still and the dripping-day starts
I cannot see past the daylight’s bright heart.
Am I a fool, or just on my own?
?Will you come to free me or leave me in stone?
I still think about you, wonder if my veins will ever forget
The way your hand felt pressed against my chest
how soft your skin was, how unreal the red seemed
Painted on his gloves, it weaves through my dreams
I have not tasted sleep since the night you came my way
I have not faced a dreamless land since the horror of that day
Every sundown, nightmares come to wriggle in my mind
I do not rest, I only wait
In agony for sunrise.
The daylight is here and my fear
Should be gone
The darkness, like mist
Evaporates from the lawn
My star-gazing, sugar-cubes
Flung in the sky
The current of pain where the Milky Way lies
I should be whole and peaceful and still
Instead I choose tumult
and mudslicks, and the pills I abhor;
My hands gleefully wretched with dark oil-spills.
Let my heart still and stir the river no more.
I think I’m
I think my heart is
I think my
Slipping away again.
I feel the blood-sail losing its wind