Late: Notes from the Dead Letter Office

If we save ourselves then
who is going to save the rest of them
hard at work that will never end
This is the good work though
one more time seeing people
hit when they are down
needing a hand up

it has been an interesting day so far
I forgot to call my mom
I feel like a bad son
I know I’m not but in a way
it is in there, hiding behind
the excuse of working
ever so diligently
self hatred
the perfect predator
blending into the background
wall paper demons

the boogeyman adapts to his prey
different names and faces
tailored to illicit a specific responses
different food for different times
breakfast for dinner
a late night bowl of cereal

I can do nothing
at this moment but do as I do
keep on moving, and praying
tapping my toes, whistling this
until we can look back and learn from all this
better with age

I look around and wonder
what all this is?
nothing finite, or perfectly defined
some incite, would be nice right about now
just wondering if, maybe
not if’s, no regrets
only full of wonder
maybe when’s, or should I think abouts

always thinking
the mind not at rest
hungry, but will I ever be full
or content. Currently not wanting much
but not content, almost

at times seems lacking
once again

Faith in good things
Hope that tomorrow comes
a bond and a sunrise
Shared moments, the stuff dreams are made of
little bits of nothing
that mean the world
yet won’t register on any standards scale
no measurement for the things that matter

but you, who ever you are
do you feel this too
I can’t be alone in this
it seems too common
I’m over here healing
my intentions set
and the wind at my back
I just don’t know what to say
Feeling unloved for who I am

always a change
never quite good enough
always stipulations
a bump in the road
a glitch in the system
wanting to create, with mittens of destruction

I watched him die
I wish I had a mirror
to watch me die
at that moment
drastically different
lacking sparks

the part of me that cared
struggling under the pressure
of my clenched fists
nails biting into my palms
frustration, leading to positive outcome

this will all work out
a mantra, be still
a gift to listen, a burden to bare
I wish I could wear a cape
can I be your superhero
that’s what I wanted to be when I grew up
at this age I forgot what it all meant
things got shuffled
turned about, heading back into the wild
no more bread crumbs
the witch’s plan exposed
but the children are separated and
growing hungry with which passing moment
loose ends, at a high cost

why are we mean to each other
exposed to bad things at an early age
or in general, a torch passed
my parents stopped their history
of bad home relationships
an oath to what ever the cost
to not repeat
they did a decent from my perspective
we don’t come with handbooks
a collective of histories
genetic defects and learning disabilities

so one more night alone with my thoughts
wondering why I share them
I guess it is cheaper then “talking to a professional”
a thing we can do for free if we only trusted
trying not to bring our troubles home I guess
On the fence with being sensitive and guarded
problems with being myself

was it the punishment of schoolyard folly?
Never fitting in, an alien
the adaptation over time
that found me here
a mixture of reactions
but I want to learn more
I am open for examples

And adventures
but trapped in other ways

fuck it I’m done.

(Thursday, September 20, 2007)