warrior

this pain is like an army
coming from all sides
like a warrior fighting in all
directions against
different shapes
with
odd colors and sharp edges.

sometimes I wait for the night to begin my
transformation into something,
anything,
to deal with it all.

I become impatient at the clock nearing into the night.
why can't it come sooner?

it is cold, it is cold tonight.
the radio plays something uninteresting.
the drink is too sour
the drink is too sour.

I take it in anyway and it hits me
like a hot flash.
there are no cigarettes left to kill me.

the piano on the radio plays something happy. it is
a terrible mix. I think of a whiskey sour.

why can't it be so easy
but too easy
to off oneself?

it is very simple,
possible
too simple.

nobody likes a crybaby much
less a coward
and
nobody remembers a suicide after
too long anyway.

so I'm not gonna go that way baby,
at least not yet.

I'll stay and fight,
I'll stay and fight.
it's all black and white, and
sometimes I've gone blind
and my soul is in between the balance
of confusion
lost
and
fith.