WHEN I THOUGHT I COULD HEAL THE MATTER I MAGICALLY LOST THE ABILITY TO FIX THINGS

WHEN I THOUGHT I COULD HEAL THE MATTER I MAGICALLY LOST THE ABILITY TO FIX THINGS

2012

I was notorious

Paranoid

Sure the PD had it out for me.

No scheduled vacation

Riding my bike like a demon

Tires kicking up clouds of trailing reputation

People knew where to find me.

Recently healed scars, bruises

Wondering how many I counted as friends

Bar tabs bigger than my paycheck

Couldn’t sweep the dirt out of the cracks.

The spectre of respect haunted me with its reflection

Windexed, my faults streaky.

A to do list I longed to be crossed off.

My effort like the lawn was patchy.

Low energy, fueled on covertly rolled spliffs and coffee.

My love scorned publicly with karaoke

“Next time baby, I’ll be bulletproof..”

Rumors tendrilled others interest in me

Hoping it didn’t stick around the ankles of my boots.

My finances fractions of what I needed

A third of what I desired

Spent wholly on my destruction.

I longed to spend my time on the roof,

Where I could observe without having to participate.

Fruit hung heavy on the tree

I thought about shooting myself in the basement everyday.

Figuring there would be an entrance fee free gate to hell there. 

Jameson made my forced joviality real

For the hours before I rode to the desert

Out amongst the sage every night

I sat and reeled in a wild uncontrolled state

Wishing to keep riding

Pedal away out of sight.

So hateful of myself I tried to give myself away

But no one would take 

What they couldn’t trust.

A new event on the calendar was an admonishment waiting to happen.

I tried to drown out the creaking sighs of the building,

Groans calling for help 

by singing. 

When told to be quiet

You could hear my every step with bottles clinking

My path marked with a twinkling cacophony 

Of drunken oblivion to look forward to.