darling, you are so tired, so endlessly overwhelmed
with all the cries and questions and lies dressed up
as answers. you are so assaulted by life
sometimes, so confused by the vast skies and
possibilities, the disguises you are meant to wear
and understand but which every day seem to slip
through your hands. you want more knowledge
than you can carry, more choices than you can
choose, more years than you can have.
darling, you are so sick of living in your own stomach,
of thumping fruitlessly on the four walls of your mind,
of spinning inside this scarlet head streaming with thunder:
of feeling like a guest in your own subconscious. i know
you so well darling, know the pain of a life lived too fast
and the ache of hating your own skin. you feel marked,
marked by the stares of others as you pass them,
counting each second with the burning flicker of your
heartbeat. you are half in love, full afraid, wide awake.
darling, let me hold you until you can breathe more
slowly. meld your hands to mine and we can sound
this out together. i know you; i am you. don't blame
yourself for the things you can't control: generation
upon generation have sought to map the mountains
and landmines of this strange mind and come up
with nothing but bruises and inky fingers. breathe,
and watch yourself come apart into a million and
one pieces. we will put you back together darling,
in our time. don't worry about the details.
of course you don't know how to do this: no one
ever taught you how.