I am broken. So apart.
I am falling in life. My best friend is the dark.

I yell. Do you want me. Do you want me. To my mum.
I yell do you love me. Do you love me.
Because I dont love me too.

I wanna be in the rain.
So yoy can not see the tears roll down my face.

We hide in all our depression.
Hiding from the light. That we try to invision.
PROSPERITY and PURITY.
like the man who was risen.
WE TRY TO SEE, How we can have our own salvation.

I yell. Do you want me. Do you want me. To my mum.
I yell do you love me. Do you love me.
Because I dont love me too.

I wanna be in the rain.
So yoy can not see the tears roll down my face.

I am so far. From life. No light. Just dark. Id ****. Someone. Like i am inside. I am not well. Ive come undone.

I had a love. Now lie. I was alive. Now im dead inside.

I yell. Do you want me. Do you want me. To my mum.
I yell do you love me. Do you love me.
Because I dont love me too.

I wanna be in the rain.
So yoy can not see the tears roll down my face.

how do you know (when a broken human can be fixed)


https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2644586/how-do-you-know-when-a-human-is-too-broken/

supermarket checkout line, so lazy broken down dressed,
I’m probably arrestible for disturbing the peace,
my haired piled, and held together by a broken clip,
makeup at home in
a drawer labeled ‘why bother’
my t shirt, don’t please look too closely,
yesterday’s coffee spillage outline
only mostly gone,
and the skinny jeans that felt inappropriate
ten pounds ago,
now looking semi-completely ridiculous

is this a tv show?
wallet, a twenty and a single,
who knew a pound of ground blue mountain
cost the better part of the the twenty
in that case no need for a gallon of milk
and *** a box of chocolate frosted donuts
silently slid far far away,
evidence of a guilty plea of irresponsibility resignation

short $2.42 (cut up the credit cards)
and no convenient pit to fall into
when the teenager cashier snickers,
when a sam elliot voice says here ya are,
stammering a no, a thank you, and thinking getaway direction

truck safely, made it,
knock on the window
sam elliot soundalike is a lookalike as well
standing outside with my wallet in hand,
two heads taller than my ex-petite figurine

more stammering ******* could I look any stupider

but inside a piece of brown shopping bag torn
with ten whole digits
I’ve never seen prior to this disaster
saying call when you want to return my $2.42

turns out he got, no, he is glue and paste,
an eraser man for fine lines and sad times,
and a lasso to keep me held together,
a pocket red handkerchief hanging half out
of his back pocket, never without, calls it his tear catcher

pulled out that too tight blues-blouse
from back of my closet
that still complements my complexion,
wear it ever time that day rolls around

just dumb luck ain’t much of an answer
so I’ll rephrase, dumb luck is in the everything
cause his number was 917-242-2424
and he is a gambler in matters of the heart

bust his ***** when he says he’s a lucky man,
reply he ain’t got no luck at all
compared to me on that daft day

and every daft day thereafter
I glue his lips shut to mine, no escaping,
and paste a new $2.42
into his wallet
when he is sleeping mine,
no erasing our lines,
just redrawing them deeper and finer,
just making sure my
dumb luck is working overtime

In blurry confusion voices pierce through, saying
“What do you want?” and “what do you want?”
Blundering, I can’t find my way out of the crossroads quickly enough.
First to know where I am, to know whether I am buying or selling,
threatening or begging. To haul myself off a flashing screen
or a stranger’s dreadlocks as a thousand lines intersect
and cross, stripes on top of stripes as the smells
of sewage and street food intermingle,
and the resulting discordant din.

Then to recognize myself amidst the crowd long enough to ask
what do you want? What do
I want? And when I answer,
do I hear my own voice coming as though from a distant well?
As one note in the hubbub and burble of the human sea?
And do I skim my words like **** from a pond’s surface?

I have not closed my eyes but I have stopped looking through them.
Randomly thawing long enough to realize where I am:
somewhere suffocating, somewhere that closes around the throat
like sea foam: soft, but endless. Scattering
my eyes across all the eyes that bob up and down,
passing and crossing like ships in the dark.
So numb I did not even notice I was drowning.

In the lull, rising to consciousness, breaching the surface
as though for a breath of air. Reconnecting with
and remembering which person I currently am,
and what this person wants: just to be free.
To shake off whatever numbness blended my voice
with the music and chatter and discord of this place
and blurred my face, making me an anonymous limb
attached to a much larger body.
Only now realizing the irony of that condition.

Sure
   You. Do you

It's whatever.                   No worries
            Okay
                                       Good night
                                                       Cool