Candle wax and sweaty backs
Empty packs of butts
Balled up pants, and a passing glance
What more could there possibly be

Empty bottles the hard **** waddle
And the chicken got left out
Your kid is crying, I’m over here dying
Surely we are blessed

A morning beer dost make things clear
Underneath that callous sun
A new day calls I scratch my *****
Truly this is heaven

My heart has grown quite heavy and I’ll like to lay it down.
To leave it here amongst the wood, on the moss by the stream.
To bask in what light finds its way between the leaves and branches.
Where the ravens watch the wolves who watch the moon.
Where eyes like emeralds caught in the light of a dead star.
I could leave it with her. And she could keep it company.
Though I won’t come back for it.

So then I told her I toss off dolphins as part of my charity work.
She talked about her ex, the pastor, and I said that he’s a ****.
Her sweaty calloused hands then seized upon my thigh.
I know it’s called vitiligo but her face just looked like rye.
The night was going swimmingly so I ordered another drink.
I put it on her tab again and asked about her kink.
She said she’d like to have dumpster *** and probably get chinese.
I scattered soiled diapers down so she wouldn’t hurt her knees.
We ordered teriyaki sticks and I think she got chow mein.
I took a cab and let her walk as she said she liked the rain.
Back at her apartment she was over thirty minutes late.
I said she owed me **** and there would be no more debate.
Well I didn’t like the **** and I probably wasn’t very clear.
So that’s why I’m in the hospital, now tell me why are you in here.

We’re coming close to the end of things, of things I’d like to say.
Here’s a list of some of those things I said before I pass away.
I called an old woman a **** one time for reasons that are my own.
I don’t regret it not one lil bit and let’s just leave it alone.
I once told a small child I’d cut off his face and use it to wipe my ***.
But to be fair he was stirring my scotch but he went and chipped the glass.
Then there was that time in church when I said “what in the **** is a ******”.
Or that time I told my girl that I might as well go **** a sturgeon.
The end.
Don’t forget to tip the coat check girl. She’s homeless and afraid of homeless people.

I don’t want your help.
I want you to help them.
So that there’s no one like me left to help.

Next time.
Next time someone says “I love you”.
Ask them why.
If they say something to the effect of
“because you make me feel blah blah blah”.
Run.
They’re looking for something that makes them feel a particular way.
So it’s not you they love, they love the feeling you bring about in themselves.
If someone says “you make me feel warm, safe, and happy”.
Well then you can be replaced with a blanket, a gun, and a bag of ****.

It’s not your job to make someone feel a certain way.
Love is a constant unconditional thing.
It’s not hindered by feelings.
Feelings are flawed, ever changing, and easily misconstrued.

Actual love is evident in the giving.
The giving of yourself.
You have a garden of flowers.
You love this garden.
So you devote time to it.
You nurture it, support it.
You’re giving of yourself regardless of how you feel in the moment.
The garden becomes as much a part of you as you do it.
It can’t go on as it is without you and you can’t let it die.

It’s ok.
I know her.
I’ve known her all my life.
She told me she’d wait.
Though if I ever needed her,
I need only die.

I hear her when the pain in my heart rouses my sleep.
A soft whisper as if from another room.
“Jamison”
Her breath curls up around my neck and falls down over me.
It’s a warm sleep she offers.
An end to my pain.