Somewhere along the line. All your shoulder muscles tearing. Your hands moving. Still driving in-between the lines. A want.
A kid and you get it, a house.
A car or truck.
Boxing up all your nostalgia want and need
Your history-insecurity playing out,
Like a dullard of all you could ever be
You grow dark and light
You swoop down and kiss her
You cry hard when watching movies where kids are harmed or effected and know that they are the angles that walk the earth.
You want to get back to it
Your hand upon her stomach, smelling her breath, your skin getting kissed by the. Sun-burnt and almost a shade out of fat.
She sleeps, you dip more chew to get to the bottom of yourself, it is happening with all these PBS specials, life moves without us and with us.
You can’t stop crying in secret places undeserving.. Your sort of pissed off that you can’t cry, can’t let it go. You got to keep strong. More connected to everyone you have ever known. Your best friend’s kid who has a problem shitting, you worry about this. We are connected in some way, some awkward way they are connected to me. I connect.
I get it.
Sometimes I feel like I got so much love give I just got to start giving it.
I love you guys
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