Like a Rumpke truck

Sometimes, a Rumpke truck hauling around crap all day.
I need a place to unload
what can I say?
I’m sorry to soil the pearly white curtains,
but I’ve got to let go

Still surreal,
like getting caught–
that moment
when you couldn’t consider lying.
The denial eats
away at the stomach lining
growling
for any nutrients,
and a tender gardener.

Prayer for Dead-Letter Office Unemployment

Wiping the “Return to Sender” off my forehead

because you’ll know yourself, you’ll know me
an inverted introvert, and only try to satisfy–
cause you’d have to create me to satiate me,
please, my pretty paradox don’t pass me by,
for my life would only lead up to that moment,
when these words cease to be sent back to me.

you’ll know how to tackle and rustle leaves,
chuckle at half my crap, and soothe the other,
when to discuss metaphors, death, and eternity,
and keep my mind and matter grinding away, yet loved–
carrying me back to hearth to nuzzle with my heart
until intensifying my passions reap responsibility.

Mid-Doubt

Will you be there in my crisis?
Standing between a knife, a bridge, and me
That I don’t think I could ever do,
But could just live to live and survive
Except for the kids I might as well die.
I deserve the crap I get from you,
But do I know who I am.
I have a family I am not free.
Do I need to be?