Things I tell my son:
Your heart is always growing
You will leave parts of it places
Plant it at train stations
Break pieces off like a bar of chocolate
And leave it in someone’s hands
Despite the moments when
You feel you have nothing left to give
Your heart will always keep growing back
Like the new greenery that sprouts
From a broken tree limb
Or the lengthening arm
of a once amputated starfish
The sign on the ceiling
The examination table says:
Remember you are a
The nurse asks me if I want to see the heart beat
Against my instinct I refuse
There is a surreal place between doing what is right
And doing what you want.
I say goodbye before we had the chance to know each other
Swallow the pills
Bury the memory
You may have only been a possibility
But just know that you were wanted
And you would have been
As you lay dying in the hospital
I crashed your car into a brick wall.
I didn’t know what else to do
My instinct was only
Like a captain
To go down
With the ship.
A Guide To Social Anxiety:
Step 1: write an email to your close friend. Explain why you haven’t talked to them in 8 months. Explain it had nothing to do with them. Explain how much you miss them
Step 2: re-read what you wrote.
Step 3: re-read this letter 17 more times and dissect every possible way they could interpret the message
Step 4: do you sound too:
No one likes you
No one will ever like you
Step 5: erase everything. Start again
Move to a new town
Dye your hair
Pretend you are worth knowing
Step 6: write 3 more drafts then decide not to send the letter at all
Step 7: sit alone on the couch. In the dark. Cover all the windows. Watch your favorite movies. Laugh. Wonder if your laughter even counts if you’re the only one who hears it.
Step 8: ignore phone calls. Promise yourself to call them back. You want to call them back.
Step 9: go buy food. use the robot check out lines at the grocery store. Try not to make eye contact. Blend in, be invisible.
Step 10: when someone talks to you, be polite as possible. Regret every word that falls from your mouth like a drunken mistake and Second guess everything you say.
One second too late
One decade too early
You always seem to hit all
The red lights
Or miss the trains
Or find the answers
Years ahead of their time
Some people always seem to be
In the right place at the right second
And You arrive in 5 minutes
Always fashionably late
Or paint masterpieces
You will never live to see in museums
You exist in the moment where time and space intersect
One day it will all make sense
What pulls away from your grasp
You reached for it.
The last one was the one that hurt
It was the one thing
I could never change
The one thing
My father gave to me;
That would always carve it’s way out.
This year was the year I decided
To end my life
I thought it fitting astronomically
After all those apocalyptic predictions
So the year before
I began to leave parts of myself
A tooth in the river
A bag of clothes on the sidewalk
A fetus in a flowerpot
A vague letter in my notebook
And clumps of hair in every shower I used
You leave yourself
Everywhere you go
Changing the space
Sometimes who you were
Is nothing more than skin cells
But you won’t be remembered
Sometimes what you leave behind
It was everything you had.