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Look at me, humpty dumpty at forty-three.
It's weird that sometimes the world inside my own head is so difficult while the outside is so right. There is something in me that is uncomfortable with happiness.
I grew up odd. You would have voted me most likely to blow up the school. I lived inside my head. My room was my bat cave of wonder. Afternoons were spent talking to the voices in my head. Some of the voices were nice and other's called me a failure. I made friends out of words. They sat with me and held my hand. Perhaps they are here now.
My marriage turned an awkward kid into a bitter old man. I try not to be. That should be worth something. There is an ocean of anger that ripples just under my skin with a leaky faucet. It drips drips drips through my day. I can hear the drops in my dreams.
I think the people that love me can hear it to sometimes. My girl hears it; and yet she stays, doesn't even blink. There is no fear in her love.
My ex would look for monsters around every corner. She saw me and all men as objects of fear, zoo animals really. It's like we were lions, fun to look at in cages.
When I come in contact with anyone that reminds me of her, I feel the drips in my chest. Odds are if you have feminist outrage, we won't get along. It's not that I hate women; more that my outrage rejects your outrage. Words like Patriarchy and rape culture, hold little meaning after everything I have seen and been through. Words like alimony and child custody have far more resonance with me.
Drip, drip, drip, drip
It's weird that sometimes the world inside my own head is so difficult while the outside is so right. There is something in me that is uncomfortable with happiness.
I grew up odd. You would have voted me most likely to blow up the school. I lived inside my head. My room was my bat cave of wonder. Afternoons were spent talking to the voices in my head. Some of the voices were nice and other's called me a failure. I made friends out of words. They sat with me and held my hand. Perhaps they are here now.
My marriage turned an awkward kid into a bitter old man. I try not to be. That should be worth something. There is an ocean of anger that ripples just under my skin with a leaky faucet. It drips drips drips through my day. I can hear the drops in my dreams.
I think the people that love me can hear it to sometimes. My girl hears it; and yet she stays, doesn't even blink. There is no fear in her love.
My ex would look for monsters around every corner. She saw me and all men as objects of fear, zoo animals really. It's like we were lions, fun to look at in cages.
When I come in contact with anyone that reminds me of her, I feel the drips in my chest. Odds are if you have feminist outrage, we won't get along. It's not that I hate women; more that my outrage rejects your outrage. Words like Patriarchy and rape culture, hold little meaning after everything I have seen and been through. Words like alimony and child custody have far more resonance with me.
Drip, drip, drip, drip