A Sunlit Hand

Is it so bad?

so bad, (disbelief?)

and what if I told you the truth.

what would you say?

(shit, maybe nothing at all…)

because I already know all these faults.

except sometimes I hear them

from angles oblique

and I defend and distract with greed

not because I can’t stand to be wrong

(mostly I just have to be right)

but isn’t that what is wanted from me?

(when these shadows creep in)

I shine on a smile

a joke- not funny, but distracting

I’m able to pretend to get things off track

I can hide things with the expert of rats

you see, what I want…

I see what I want.

but inside I know what is gone-

I can feel it

in held breath

and I see it the the way

that your face rests,

missing its joy.

(and you told me!)

you asked me.

and I hollered! and stammered! and slammed!

(that’s when my brain

shrinks corners)

please believe me-

please read me

(I want it to branch out!)

my blame is abundant

I find everyone

(“hey, you!” Mr. Jones on the street

I was walking here… and how!

this ain’t fair… why don’t you see!)

I find everybody

I can point out for you and he and her

the room of despair? it is lonely and blurred

truth is

apparent

when lists of the damage

is totalled

and it grows and grows

as time slows and slows

and I go and go

recounting totals

back to the scene-

back to the scene-

why did I do it? (why did I do it)

can this be me

did anyone see

(and I find my sentence

and I find my resistance)

and you are there

wondering.

who?

who.

like an owl

we never see what is new.

the tide is today

and its chipping away

and the channels are deep and destructive

the tide is today

the sand is moving away

perhaps I could grab some to sprinkle

I could dust up this spot

and over here drop

and smile, (even if it’s just for the plot)

maybe in awhile

I could even smile

or dance, or sing… otherwise ought

to not be distraught

don’t I deserve that?

I know you do.

maybe you could even help me

(I could help you)

and I’m back here again

wanting to be your best friend.

not knowing what to do.

not knowing,

not seeing the angles

and surprised when I fuck something up.

with the best of intentions

it still is fucked up

and that means mistakes

the books say they happen

(I know they happen)

and I’m okay

until it comes to you

this esteem’s thin veneer

smudges interior

an unworthy inferior warrior

I follow their paths

I sense all the wrath

now I know what that can do

and I read how they follow

before it felt hollow

this density leaves out you

but I want you in here

if you’ll destroy this sphere

I swear I can deal with the fear

I’ve felt it arise

and dissipate before my eyes

leaving my sight back intact

yet it’s all under the waves

where you surf everyday

calling out to the shore

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