I’ve

5/31/24

I’ve read a book. I’ve wrote a book.
I’ve picked up kleptomania and guilt.
I’ve dyed my hair a rainbow and bought three types of hats.
I’ve rebranded there and back again.
I’ve loved easy. I’ve loved hard.
I’ve done therapy and made real progress.
I’ve learned to eat, sleep, cry, and coexist.
I’ve tried philosophy and sport.
I’ve picked up addictions just to let them go.
I’ve been humbled. I’ve been ashamed. I’ve been admired.
I’ve listened to Merzbow, Lamar, Perry, and Swift.
I’ve made mistakes, purposeful or not.
I’ve let go of some dreams.
I’ve lived two lives: before and after eighteen.
I’ve tried to cope, proper and mature.
I’ve known enough to know nothing ever really ends.
I’ve actualized enough to cry on your grave.
I’ve attempted to join you, but I hate the pain.
I’ve held my breath, but can’t get to ten.
I’ve tried and tried, but something keeps me coming back.
I’ve stitched a hat. I’ve taught myself to juggle.
I have this knowledge that it all repeats;
I’ve known how disappointing it will be,
but here I am again, trying, for the sake of sake itself.
I have to guess there’s a reason, but
I’ve learned enough to know, that comes to an end.
So I’ll hold my breath and count to ten,
and hope when I open my eyes, all will —