Inevitably... there are things I miss
and things I regret
and promises I can't quite put my
finger on, but must surely be broken
There are spaces between
my clenched jaw and fists
that want to be held by
someone, anyone
who will sit and listen to my
unbearable silence
There are questions that won't give in
and answers that won't budge
There is heaviness, unavoidable weight
that sits and multiplies
the more I try to ignore it
There is so much pressure now
that you can see the buckling
under my pen and heavy fingers
There is no ending
There is only a continuation
when I least suspect its resurrection
Nothing ever dies
Nothing is ever finished
Nothing is ever new
So I see the same dream, always
the one where I'm chasing my selves
to get us all writing on the same page
to spread out the heaviness
((like nails to the back))