I'd like to write more

 

I'd like to write more
before playing in traffic
and the big bus of time
splays me into the
asphalt

I'd like to write more
before I free fall off
the ledge of years
into the abyss

I'd like to write more
before the night swallows
me one last time and
craps me out into
my grave

I'd like to write more
about;

things I understand

            ( an old dog treating a
               bone like a holy relic)

            (cats melting like chocolate
              laying in the sun)

            ( how the pain of grief can
              bring us the gift of freedom)

I like to write more
about;

things in don't understand

            (like hope moving with the
             speed of a dead sloth
             through steaming forest
             trees)

            ( when friends see that you
               are in love and don't call
                a suicide help line)

          ( how faith is like some voyeur
            looking in through a dirty window
            waiting for you to fuck up so
            it can jack/ jill off to your misery)

I'd like to write more,

but right
now
I can't

works calling

the cat
  just hocked
      up a hair ball

the mail box is
full of rejection
slips

and the pills are
beginning to
work