It’s
High time
That I took the necessary steps to happiness
And with dignity and self respect.
I am a faucet, dripping.
I am a seesaw, swinging.
I am night, crawling.
My days glimmer with the reflection of mirrors
And the blare of white lights.
I think the traffic lights are playing tricks on me
I think I am not moving fast enough
To stay sane.
Ask the dusk what he’s seen.
Ask the darkness for every secret he’s swallowed of mine.
Ask the emptiness, ask the oppressive blanket
What he’s heard me cry out.
This dankness is my companion; I spend more time with him
Than myself.
All the times I abandon this body and float within
My thoughts, he’s there to sponge my tears away
And make them disappear,
Not to be soothed
But to be forgotten.
The darkness is cancer.
It’s the astringent for the pain I still feel,
The blackness pulls the depression still deeper in my heart.
My cat trying to squeeze from the bottom of my dresser,
Clawing like a mad woman,
Crying and scratching,
Still unsuccessful.
The ache spreads to my stomach and lungs in the usual manner,
The more the stars twinkle
The more acerbic this spiteful heart burns.
My head aches with the pressure of tomorrow,
With the ache of knowing what to do,
But not knowing how to do it.
My body aches with my most painful desires,
Unscrupulously wishing my words would perform
Their purpose
And tell others how I feel,
Convince of what this still body cannot.
At the end of all this,
These words are all I have.