what happened to passion
what happened to my desire to do this thing well,
this thing that pays,
that keeps me moving m-f,
that puts me in the direct line of fight
sometimes fire
i end up so exposed
and raw to the bone.
and passion (when outside these walls
wild and full and pure beauty)
is a misnomer
or i just haven't found it
here.
yesterday my girlfriend
(because she is secretly a lawyer)
made me see sides i didn't want to see
or think about
because obviously of course
she asked me questions
i've already asked myself.
i don't have the answers, really
now or ever
but really
i don't remember why i chose this
other than for my love of language
words
stories
hypotheses
theories
long-winded tall-tongued whirl-shake discussion.
i like symbolism, too.
and symbolically my presence here
is death, i think.
i am not fulfilled.
i am not moving forward.
i am entirely stagnant and impatient
save for those brilliant moments
the ones that re-root me
and answer "why?" with "yes."
when i get the urge to escape
wanting to run away
buy a farm
live in a tree
pack my cats (and my girl) and go
it's clear:
i need change.
so i dream of the west coast
of beginnings and continuations
of a slate unmarred by
a reign of unholy terror
sandwiched between attack dogs
and cannons too loose to trust.
i think maybe that is the worst part
that i have nowhere to go, here.
they have taught me to trust no one, not
a one of them.
largely because
they don't appear to trust me.
i have to be professional
in 45 small minutes
i have to buck up
slap a smile on
get my shit together
and be who i am
while being who they want me to be.
in a trickle of honesty
i don't know how i'm going to pull that off
it's too early in the year to cry
over such petty, bullshitty things.
or miscommunications.
or an intended-to-be helpful chat.
i tell my people
to suck it up
and move on.
they don't always listen
and apparently
neither do i.
