Circulation

I fall and I crash, Like it hasn't already happened. Hitting rock bottom And splitting open Should have been liberating. Instead I hurt, And I disgust myself Because I hurt for me. Some demented perverse mind Seems to have infiltrated The mass in my head. If I'm not ungrateful, I'm selfish. If I'm not quiet, I have an attitude. Can I just not be me Instead of a bunch of adjectives That throw me all over the place? Don't tell me What I need do With what I have. Don't tell me what I need think of it. Why must completion never be calm, But instead blow its trumpet Loud to the world? I'm sorry for all the things I think I never did. But that doesn't matter. Now I collide and gash at my soul, Lash out, Rip away the ugly bits And find what? I can not be whole. Can you not take it all Just the way it is? Instead of trying to make me better Than the best that I am, Just because I'm not Overrated or underrated, Or just because I'm not the same? It's funny to speak of courage And then gag me in one breath. So my words are suffocating, Sinking slow and colliding. Why don't you cut off the circulation? Or simply push To see how far below I am yet to go? I don't want to cry alone anymore.this one is for my parents, one I hope they never read. Or maybe I'm just not brave enough. Written February 6th, 2002 © on Feb 06 2002 10:36 AM PST   18 • 0 • 1