All those nights and grey grainy mornings and all the days of long hours and sour air,
all the sitting and sighing and too sad to think of anything not tinged with sulfur,
and trying to ignore something that crawled,
that stung under my skin,
like pulling your finger thru a candle.
All the nights and nights and endless nights,
walking sleepwalker style through a life not given,
not given freely,
but taken and slapped against a wall of thickest congealing paint,
only the outline speaks to me,
only the outline seems real,
because my edges are always blurred and the contents always shifting,
All those days of lost wandering and feelings pinned here and there like butterflies,
like clinging web strings,
like splatters from hot grease.
All the times,
all the minutes,
all the Jacob Marley moments, the dragging chains of my life along,
all of it…
I give up.
I give over.
and search for a path not scored with straggling footprints ,
not stained like old china mugs
by bitter memories.
I open my cramped hands and breathe,
trusting that my lungs will remember how,
and that the trembling in my bones will still,
and clearness will barricade me from the small biting creatures
tearing at my thoughts,
and a path will open,
a path will open,
a path must open,
after all those nights…