jerks like a knee

this pain jerks me awake

so cruel, like a joke that's not kidding.

no warning, no permission granted, but it sears just the same.

my head throbs and my nerves squeal

relent!

uncle!

cease and desist!

i give uuuuuuuup.

i can't handle this, god!

is what i yell through the most honest, unstoppable tears i have dropped in years.

the flood comes, night after painful night, when i haven't even wanted it, worked for it, sought it out.

this water falling from my eyes belies a heart fresh in healing from pain just as severe.

a root canal can fix only one of these things, and that is unfortunate

but bliss in the end.

because if i could, go to the doctor, and have him fix everything wrong with me

and get a prescription to kill this, numb it, i wouldn't. no, because he can only know so much, you see

and i need to know all

of me

before i can fix it.

even then

i can really only hold it together with band-aids and wishes

that god will hold me tight in the palm of his soul and protect me when the wave threatens again

in the middle of the night

this pain

i didn't ask for, but have and can't make go away.

if only a root canal could fix that.

peanut butter and jelly

eat
eat eat
this peanut butter and jelly sandwich
and make sure i have milk on hand, and cut the bread into triangles.
because sometimes
when everything else is going around you
going so hard
you just want
to be a kid again.
and jump on the little trampoline in your basement and frolic through the swamp behind your house
and know that when you wake up crying in the middle of the night from a nightmare
your dad will come in and pray for you and everything will be ok again.
and you can wear pj's until 11am if your mom lets you.
and there is none of this mad, mad world making you sad and angry and at a loss as how to help.
is this how we make a difference?
sometimes the best you can give is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,
is a memory
of times when you knew life and love went together just so.
let this be so, god, let me hold your hand.
ahhhh.
thanks.

of singleness and debt

without all the frivolities
the worries or cares
we could sit and ponder the moon and it's many meanings
if i was part of a we
then
it would be more than just me.

but as it is
i drive
and glance over my shoulder with frequency
for the moon casts no shadow
but sits in it's solitary brightness
waiting
to hold another's hand.

visit

it is as if i have left
never
to return
for a very serious face has turned mine
that says i cannot live like this any longer.
i was created for something less than a lie.
something only the truth can bare.
always the truth was there before the lie, only listen.
as promiscuous as the time has become
there is a place for me in the erie silence of
breathtaking trust.
for when i do less
i do less.
and when i do less
he does more.

come to see

today i have come to see
a pain away and into
for some mysterious shift has occurred
a change so swift
i have to double check.
i can take myself away from it, and i can put myself back into it
but i can.
and i realize that.
i have chosen.
frighteningly close to giving in to heartbreak.
now is the time to twine into learning and pain and loving this game and filling the holes with sunshine to burst out into the winter of my life.
the solitude and the introspective me
this
i have come to see.

chunky lentil soup

regret like the lumps of underdone carrots remain in my mouth for far too long.
this extra lung of pain cannot just dissipate, it ruminates to the contrary.
oh no
oh no
sometimes we dig our own graves.
i wish i had wanted to eat this soup as much as i wanted to make it.

the flowers all pop up in rows without me
and they don't even know.
that this fame and glory and guts has all been for naught.
i don't want to win.
i just want to rewind,
to the place
where i was in that brief moment when our eyes matched
with windows finally open to souls that were full
and on the same page.
for that one moment.

but i can't get that back
and i can't sit around wanting that back.
because it is not my chair
it is not my window
it is only my soul that is left
frankly,
and i know this way well.
i have made my soup.
and now i must eat it.
tears and all.
oh,
if only they would come.

this heat

this heat reminds me of
the cold i felt this morning.
the crisp wind blew and friends came too
this morning on my face.
a heart so full of joy and wonder
dew frozen solid and saved just for me
to glance and to stare for as long as you stayed.
what a secret, what surprise i never did expect.
i hoped to hope and dared to dream but
snow,
here,
in austin?
TEXAS?

but i think the best thing about this cold heat
is that it still glows on my cheeks.  hours upon hours after we were together.
the outside and i.
if i could bring you in and hold you close, and always be with you i would.
but then i would never miss you.
and it's always nice to want you.
outside, i take it back.  i will appreciate you for what you are, but we can't always be together.  sometimes i have to sit in a comfy chair and sip something warm and tasty.  so thanks.  thanks for leaving me with a reminder of you on my cheeks.