One day I’ll find relief
I’ll be arrived
And I’ll be a friend to my friends who know how to be friends

One day I’ll be at peace
I’ll be enlightened
And I’ll be married with children and maybe adopt

One day I will be healed
I will gather my wounds forge the end of tragic comedy

I have been running so sweaty my whole life urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time, of being forever incomplete

One day my mind will retreat
And I’ll know God
And I’ll be constantly one with her night dusk and day

One day I’ll be secure
Like the women I see on their 30th anniversaries

I have been running so sweaty my whole life urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time, of being forever incomplete

Ever unfolding
Ever expanding
Ever adventurous
And torturous
…but never done

One day I will speak freely
I’ll be less afraid and measured outside of my poems and lyrics and art

One day I will be faith-filled
I’ll be trusting and spacious, authentic and grounded and home

I have been running so sweaty my whole life urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time, of being forever incomplete

— “Incomplete”; Alanis Morissette

When did I stop living by my rules, and start surviving by yours?  Daily you fill me with your lies; I remain an empty shell, an empty soul.  Even now as I try to be rid of you, I find myself unable to step over the lines you have caged me in.  I fear it is too late to be whole again.

You left a stain

on every one of my good days.

But I am stronger than you know.

I have to let you go.

— “Disease”; Matchbox Twenty

Lost time rewinding

Slowly, and, I pray, surely

Erase years squandered

To feel the heart work its magic at double-time; pearls of perspiration course the body, colliding and colluding; alive.

I seem to always forget the pleasure in good things, force pleasure in the bad.

Your light, burns so bright

Show me the way to your shore

Guide me home, my love

Day and night and all the little in-betweens have become one and the same.  I know only when it is time to rest, feed, cleanse, because my body tells me so.  The world goes on its merry way without me, vagrant lost in nonexistence.

I am dead weight on this pendulum cord.  Always displaced from equilibrium, never at rest.  Back, forth, back, forth, volatile but predictably so.  A free fall into monotonous motion.

With each swing, I will myself to jump on the count of three.  One hand holding on to the only home I know; one hand out, ready to break my fall.

A friend once told me God collects our tears, each of us proud owners of a jar.  I played along.  “There must be a reservoir named after me in heaven,” I said.

I am not sure quasi-amusing moments are compensation enough.

Is this all?

Worldly treasures

and material possessions

Nary a trace of happiness

to be found in them

Just pleasure

oh so ephemeral – as fleeting as it came to be, so it will fly from

you