Turbulence

Seven of Wands

&

The Knight of Cups Reversed

take my word for it, 
if you don’t believe it
 
a small percentage of what I am 
is the resin of what I once was
 
in the corners of rooms and in the smallness of what 
I allowed to be me in the presence of miniscule friends,
I centered my breathing—
 
I dripped in overheated cars
while summer blistered and blackened 
my soft fingers on the steering wheel,
breathing—
 
no one believed I could feel any pain
so they pierced and hung me, 
rigged to a tree—
 
I kept watch on how many times I died those days,
I never knew I’d tire of keeping score—
 
A circus followed me, 
clowns in other costumes
mimicking friends,

lovers,
saviors—
 
an idling car 
sat outside my window


a small civil war bashed my head with scenarios
of who and what and why?


these hooks kept me on a crucifix
 
no red roses to drape over my grave, 
I will burn,
and you’ll burn with me—
 
the ones that love the hardest die last


so I’m already dead

A coma lives in my yawning, 
I smile at the thought of death evaporating from the heat of my breath—
 
 
This is a curse of enduring what most never get
This is a curse of enduring what some turn to debt
This is a curse of enduring what I can’t forget
 
take my word for it, 
if you don’t believe it