easily unfixable

she tells me to go
to the doctor and talk to her
because the experts know best.

the doctor will ask, “where does it hurt?”
and i will say, “everywhere”
but she will be confused and ask for specifics.
i wouldn’t blame her.
treating that would be like throwing a dart at a body,
and treating the area skin met steel.

the doctor will ask, “where does it hurt?”
and i will point to my head and my heart.
she will nod in understanding and write a prescription
for over-the-counter medicine, thinking of her next patient.
i wouldn’t blame her then, either.
it is a difficult task, working for the greater good.

the doctor will ask, “where does it hurt?”
and i will smile and say, “nowhere. i’m just here for a check-up.”

look at the mouse roar,
look at the elephant soar,
look at the zebra fixing the door.

fuck, i’ll always want more.

loneliness is an insane person
trying to complete a puzzle.
the kind that’s eaten a corner piece
after buying it, but runs around
demanding it from others to replace.

there is enough
broken poetry everywhere.
it is time we take the pieces
and create something new.

the book thief

he used to say,
“anyone that gives a lent book
back to their owner must be insane,”
and i imagine him at a desk
soaking in book after book next to
a fire-lit lamp.

i smile at the image.

but then i start to think of the lender.

would he have made his books feel wanted?
would he have talked to them?
would he have given them the warm touch of his hands
which they so craved?
or would he have left them on a shelf,
perhaps a drawer
withering and cold?

and i begin to wonder whether
sometimes it is better
to be the robber
than the robbed.

this particular fall has felt
so terribly eternal,
that i find myself wishing
to hit pavement already.

it turns out,
ignoring sadness doesn’t
make it leave.
might as well
invite it in and make it
a cup of tea.