why do anger
and depression
hold hands
like immersed lovers?
Even after a half-awake
disapproval of my
hormonal emotives,
you tell me
I seek reassurance
by expressing
my commited spirit.
I can admit
that I do wonder
what parts of me
you notice
or if I'm wasting
your time
better yet
mine
My soul is in retrograde
back to when 18
seemed like
peering off the
chert faced clifts
and the only leap
that I could make
was towards his
eyes.
Today the equinox
is a reminder
that 25 is swiftly
pickling my toes.
And like 18
I've come full circle
in reverse to
an open organ
that was once
cauterized,
sealed and vaccumed
before I met you
Like a flash
from a Roman candle,
I cracked open and lit up
in order to save myself
from growing stale,
and in return
exposed my underside
to you.
Without bed,
with foundation,
without slumber
without out damn spot
I sit down calmly
but fester about the
relationship
between
anger
and depression,
do you not remember
when you have sat
in this same seat?
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