I get down
When you’re not around,
Not a lot,
Just enough
To have a huff
Every so often
When my friends
Are busy in Boston
And I’m bound to work’s
Lost not found box,
Feeling drowned,
I guess life hurts,
And it’s always worse
When you’re not around,
But, to you, I’m on a lower level;
Unsung, unsound,
Just joshin, heh, hell
Trying to exercise caution,
I bought a whole block of oxygen
At the auction of reprieve
Now I can breathe
Now I can handle the ice of silence
As it breaks into sharp angles,
Shouts of anger,
Senseless impatience, vacant relations,
This nonsense reminds me of my _ _ _,
My _ _ _ _ _ _, tyrants,
How they’re similarly mad
Renegades in a constant state
Of irate tirades, since
Our Bahamas vacation;
And now comes a revelation
(eighteen years after
the worst of our little disaster)
It is this
Part of the conversation
Becoming part of my consciousness

“No wonder you go for girls who treat you like shit. You have two abusive relationships on the fritz that left holes you’re trying to fit.”