Aftermath

Aftermath

The dust has settled
We have been divided
By ground zero.

When a storm comes through
With sound and fury
With thunderbolt and flurry
You can tell.

The land is stricken with the
Swift crack of charged particles
Come so quickly
And gone so soon
That the earth and sky
Pretend that the attraction
Was only imagined.

There are other calamities
That leave their mark
In a more subtle fashion
It's not immediately apparent
Where and how the damage was done.

What does it look like exactly
In the aftermath of anxiety?

You never call first anymore.
You know when you dial my number
It's a coin toss as to who will answer
Me or the misguided wildness within me.
The starved repression.
The self-medicated disaster.

Even when I apologized
and promised that I would give you
all the love in the world.

You could never believe me.

To admit you are sick
Is to have every word you say
From that point on
Taken in the context of your disease.

Baby.

I am not my disease.

I am not the coin tosser.
I am the tossed coin.



I am not the traitor.
I am the neuro-political prisoner waiting for brain
To turn against me to turn against you to turn against me
to turn back again against brain.
Wash the cerebral fluid, rinse , and repeat
A closed loop of betrayal.

I am not the time bomb
I am the wires
I would cut myself in half
If it meant saving you from my blast radius.

In the aftermath
I always call first.

In the aftermath
I am the non-action
Regretting what it didn't do.

In the aftermath
I am waiting for you
to come around.

This isn't me asking for salvation.
I don't need you to save me.

Salvation is not a momentary action.
Salvation is a process.