its always fucking ouch, as of late.

oh you're standing on my sternum
don't you come down, darlin' 


some days are easier than others.  some days i have to take heaving gasping breaths just to sit still.  other days i cant sleep. some days i feel endless boundless possibility.  i suppose creation is not clean. i suppose genesis requires chaos. i hope that within this mess, i'll find the tools.  but right now, its like one foot in front of the other blindfolded and in the dark. why am i walking away from home, burning everything in sight?  what am i going to find?  what sense does it make?  how do i explain that i'm only following the gut feeling, the heart inside?  i feel so much, i know so little.  (and what about the days that i feel nothing at all?)

i'm reminded of mikey's stories about marine training.  about being dropped into water, tied up and blindfolded, in a helicopter shell.  i cant imagine surviving catastrophe.  zombie attack, armageddon, i always envision myself the first to go.  i'd probably just lay down and die.  or shoot myself.

cant decide which it is this time.

and i miss and miss and ache and swallow, all the goddamn time.
and i mourn the home i've let go.  the home that i was once so lucky to hold.  to travel with.  that home we built as kids out of dirt and tears and cigarettes and six AM's driving home from the night previous.

i mourn the home i've burnt to cinder.
what's my problem? who do i think i am?

a: shoot myself   b: lay down and die  
some days i never see myself pulling through.