Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

The hand not held

If only you knew the high
That I feel from the wounds you give.
If only you saw the same sky
As I, see how I truly live.

…

I've held on,
From here to there.
I've felt the fear,
Have lived the scare.
I've let go
When you told me to stay,
And proceeded to benefit
From my perilous ways.
Can't you see me?
Broken down,
Breathing harshly,
From stuffed nose
Or hurting heart?
Don't you know I've tried
Every change I could
To get the notice
I thought I deserved?

…

Trashling, here I am,
Smelling of rotten faith,
Healing from fate,
And drowning in the whispers
Of the shadows of the night.

…

I've been cold like this before.
Remember that night?
Like all the shallow voices
From beyond any crypt-like pedestal
Came and dove into my skin,
To produce a thousand goose bumps of affright?
You petted me like I needed to be.
You don't even know me, but HA!
Have we not lived under the same roof
With each other, for at least 16 years?

…

Would you have worn the shoe if it fit?
To be the maniacal one?
Would you have raised your hand
As if to tell God or some invisible council
To let naught this souvenir of anxiety
Go to the one person who may not be
Of able mind to carry it?
Would you have volunteered?
Or would you have been there on the other side,
Lastly standing, waving me fare thee well.
Knowing you'd see me again,
While I walked away unsure of myself.

…

And don't it sound like the scenarios of my life,
To give myself time enough for the world
To see me for me,
But they only see me for nothing.
Weren't you supposed to be holding my hand
(and not her hand)
Most of the steps of the way,
To find some talent.
And where are my compliments from you?
My credence from you?
Where were you,
When you were supposed to be saying
“You can do it!”
WHERE WERE YOU?
When all these months added up to strain on my shoulders,
And all these tears added up to
A salty bit of seclusion,
Why weren't you there,
Like you were when I left that heavenly place,
Bidding me goodbye if but for now.
You always say I can count on you,
But I've counted to one million and nine and
Where the f-ck is YOU?
How come this toughened hand
You neglect to hold on to?

…

Though she's been in your life
A few short (months days weeks years),
And I for years have been in your life,
I figured it would end this way.
With you forever in love,
Whipped like a slave,
Yet gifted with love.
And I,
Storming the brain for ideas
Of sadness and idyllic things
To write about,
Hand empty
Except for the pen
Pushing the words onto the paper.

February 14, 2005
Suge


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The hand not held

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