The question is how to remain in the light
when the head is like an empty boat,
when anger tears at the ribcage
from the inside out like razor claws,
when loneliness is bolstered
by exclusion.
The question is how to face the day
from behind this putty mask
without putting blade to vein,
or fist to wall over something
that isn�t worth the effort of temper.
The question is how to move forward
feeling lost in the present
and longing for the long past days,
knowing that today is the yesterday
of tomorrow, and tomorrow is the beginning
of the past.
Putting these things down with pen,
I feel nothing as the paper leaches the ink
the way that this life sometimes leaches me.