Family, Friend I Apologize
I write better in boxers then briefs
Not sure if it's the air or the reach.
I never was good at something quick. Something long or complicated that always being my trick.
From 7 to 7 with pen in hand still disappointed when the day comes to end. No golf, basketball, chore or walk in the park, this is a rule that must not bend..... Shit!
The thought that just came and suddenly went, not a pencil, pen or elbow bent...Au revoir!
Freedom
I want to touch freedom
From this broken heart
I want to touch freedom
from fear and doubt
I want to touch freedom
From these walls that shout
I want to touch freedom
From perversion and angst
I want to touch freedom
From thoughts began in my past
I want to touch freedom
From a world that's just too vast
I want to touch freedom
From parts of me nurtured, but still won't grow
I want to touch freedom
From all who don't know
From parts of me refusing to show.
I want to touch freedom
From this broken heart
I want to touch freedom
from fear and doubt
I want to touch freedom
From these walls that shout
I want to touch freedom
From perversion and angst
I want to touch freedom
From thoughts began in my past
I want to touch freedom
From a world that's just too vast
I want to touch freedom
From parts of me nurtured, but still won't grow
I want to touch freedom
From all who don't know
From parts of me refusing to show.
Where to Turn
The knock to the door came at 1:15 a.m. It was a light knock. It was shy too. So shy in fact the knock was not heard at all.
A second knock came but sounded as if it too didn’t want to knock at all.
Inside the same door, the hand waited anxiously. Ready for something. Thinking, it had nothing to be ready for.
A third knock came from two rapid knuckles, already sorry, they had knocked so loud.
The hand twisted the gold flaking knob draped it in a hopeful prayer. Paused feeling foolish knowing there was no hope at all.
As the door creaked opened the knuckles still in mid air, watching as foolishness fell to the floor. An even frailer smile turned down incapable of speech. The hand spoke first.
“You okay”?
Her lips and body beneath quivered as an arrow on a unsteady bow.
“I’ve been texting ya all night, but you didn’t answer”.
“I shouldn’t of come,” turning towards the door.
“I'm your friend right”.
Not liking what he saw, repeated.
"You okay”?
“I guess”.
She paused in doubt.
"At least I will be".
She answered herself.
“I gotta be”.
And answered herself again, “Right”?
“Of course, you gotta be"