The true strength 
of ones boundaries 
is not that 
they are built 
for most can’t 
see them but 
in your conviction 
that they are 
and when tested 
do stand up 

It’s just 
the what
might’ve beens 
that I
can’t shake 
like gum
or toilet
paper stuck
to the 
bottom of 
my shoe 
I just 
didn’t see
and now 
can’t reach

Hope is
a bitch
a crucifier 
holding a 
hammer and 
a bucket 
of nails 
snickering and 
gaily sneering 
as she 
pounds one 
spike after
the next 
and then 
leaves me 
to die 
on the 
cross of 
my own 
once wish

I will never 
tire of mornings 
such as these
when quiet quickly 
hatches into cacophony 
of footsteps and 
percolators and percussions 
of closing doors 
and finally when 
they’ve all gone 
I can sit
cup in hand 
brew in belly
and watch sun
I will never 
tire of these