So Much; Too Much
I went away a good while.
'Learned how to smile in a way that can mean
so much; too much.
I knew who you were.
Not a him or a her, just a soul crying
so much; too much.
When you can’t see yourself for the good that you would
try to bless the world with,
And the world rejects you as worse than the filth,
you may find yourself preferring death.
You will cry in that moment that you know you’re alone.
No person to cling to– no voice on the phone.
You may, like I have, explain to the walls,
“I’m dying I’m dying, I’m dead– I’m deceased.”
But in that moment, such a desperate clutch:
You know you’ve lived
so much; too much.
Friends let you out or point to the door.
It hurts like a death or perhaps just more.
When those that you thought knew you reject and refuse
to continue to speak for the reason that’s you.
Maybe if only I can have one more kiss.
No, it’s the feeling of care that was missed.
And the feeling implodes when I’m royally dissed.
—Makes my finger roll out of a balled up fist.
After that I get maybe a consoled touch.
that means
so much; too much.
But if you were starving and thirsting to death,
What might you eat or drink? –or deny any breath?
Cause resting in peace seems like such a relief
in contrast with blind struggles based on belief.
I think when I write, that I tend to botch–
perhaps spill all my thoughts then step back and watch
and it never fails to be:
so much; too much.
