deals in guilt like an arms dealer deals in heavy weaponry
blew my mind attempting to use religion as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding
mashed potatoes for my mom and listening to “Pain In My Heart” sung by Helene
touches parts of my soul reserved for restoration and retaliation
made a cup of instant coffee as my morning constitutional calls out to me like
a constipated rooster
I have loved you since we met at that Greyhound station in Indianapolis,
waifs fighting against the strains of this miserable world because we’re fully
aware taking one’s life is not an option when we’re guardians of light and
feeling half dead for weeks and I know you understand what I’m moving through.
I also know sometimes you consider drinking the turpentine instead of mixing it
with your oil paints. Guilt checks us at the door and sends us out into the
world oftentimes wearing the wrong overcoat. Time to take a shit and unload
some of these bad feelings.