Monday, July 25, 2011

Some Of Us

(Pre-Script: This poem should be read as the song, "Gravity," #28 on the playlist, plays in the background. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...)(...still waiting...)

Some of us can't relax
unless we have a bottle in one hand
a bottle in the other-
what is in the bottle doesn't matter
different things for different ones of us
at different times and I
am all of those "ones of us"
at some time or other.
the way I do is
I will drain this bottle down then
refill it with all of the tears it was blocking,
then I can finally release my fierce grip on it's
neck, so
I let go wildly, reckless in the letting go like
whoosh and like who cares-
then comes the impact
as crash and glass shattering
cuts my toes and makes me bleed
at least a little.
The rest of the shards get washed out to sea
with the force of the tears they contained-
to be tossed to be tossed to be tossed, jostled
by all the salt of every ocean and once smooth,
deposited on some shore
upon which I have yet to awaken.


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