endurance in the depths of no one in particulars hell
from you that my imagination cannot fathom.
Though you should understand you progress without my hate,
rather my begrudgened envy.
Me, the lukewarm beggar,
hoping for a future inside a broken paper cup;
You, the single-serving friend,
anxious in this snow covered town that you cannot wake up.
'I am sorry, no doubt more then you can recall.
Me, the coward hiding 'neath the brown, woolen shawl,
your partner, your brother-in-arms, your all.'
Suffer so that I may seduce your pain,
suffer so that I may escape myself again.
Yes, suffer so that I may live.
And if you can, refrain from counting on me;
when my time comes, I shall avert my eyes, and pass.
Perhaps the time has come, or are we likely far too late
to walk along the day, and cross the street to tomorrow?
I have seen it on your tongue four days now,
trapped between the ridges we press upon cancerous sores
we cannot help but irritate.
I have seen it in your eyes,
eyes that rest upon the curb, when they rest at all:
I cannot give onto others that which I lack:
the courage to reach these depths of life as you do.
And how do you do?