but that handle was made for his hand
hand - handle
handle - hand

the fingers would close
around it to never let go
It had to have flesh around it
at all times
But the blade...
the blade was still naked. He couldn't let
the blade naked
It wasn't fair

"So that's why you stabbed your
mommy then?" the psychiatrist asked him.

"Yes," he said.

"The knife is more important
to you than mommy?"

"The knife listens. Mommy doesn't."

My nights consist of falling apart
On a daily basis
That’s according to my thesis
On my own self evaluations
Keep getting caught in bad situations
This is an invitation
To not feel okay
Sometimes you just need to cry
Let it all out
In a form of sentences
Trying to express your emotion
What’s holding you down promoted
To this cause I am devoted
Left vulnerable and open

Bleeding and broken

©2018 Written By Benji James

The flame springs to
burn my hand. Blood drips drop
by drop from a hole.

I am signing red.
Inertia sits in the veins.
Do not know any god.

End and beginning
have become one. I will
calculate sins.

Escorting the ache
for a bath in tears for
the sake of feel.

Love was moving
towards west. Angst of living
on the sands of time.

This was killing. He
will celebrate the blurred
vision of bright sun.

subtle, shallow breath spread;
there, the cold and sombre fall, giving weary heart rest.

but how it did fester under his tongue; how his regret did cry in such a sepulchre throat.

but still, did the sea pull. still, did her lips part to make air, and let her body scream life.

still, did leaves grow, and still did they fall.

still, was there living, even in a woman's grief.

Upon awakening I almost never,
jump right out of bed, as I once did.
Slowly I rise to sit awhile on the edge
of  my days desired intentions.
Stiffly I stand and tentatively step away
towards the bathroom to relieve my
most pressing bladder urges.

Those parts of me that do still work,
do now mostly hurt and that's for certain.
Like any other machine, my body's warranty
has long ago mostly expired.

When we old friends now gather,
rather than palavering about our kids,
our golf game, or our ******* Boss at work,
the collective commiserating talk always turns
to our individual deteriorating health matters.

How things once were and no longer are.
Our new hurts and concerns laid out in
vivid detail, what the latest tests revealed
and what the Doctor said or concluded.  
These shared aging complaints you see,
seem almost limitless and all consuming.

We become a little like a hapless clergyman,
preaching wishful consoling rhetoric to his choir.
Not one of us knows, or has the answers
to any of life's BIG questions and actually
never did.

Misery you see, does indeed love company,
talking and sharing seems to help I guess,
being the only real tonic offered or taken,
no prescription required or need be written.