their personality is a hopeful rumage
made, scrambling over –
a heap of trauma damage

they give me a past
and it was sculpted out of brick
it was placed on my back
but it never fits

i am petals –
of your flower
you put hands on my face
i give you hours
i am independent
but my traction is better under your power

i am hawking my smile
to each individual event
i know the waves crash upon my beach
and the seawall is bent
i am just one, just one greetings card away
from being well meant

i know what is coming
and already,
i am trying to imagine how it will feel
i imagine, in my softer delusions
hoping it is not real

let your, ‘crazy’, go free
cuddle up to middle age
cuddle into me
i hate been as broken –
as all the rest
why have any of us wasted a life
trying to clean up a never ending mess

a world of houses and chiseled parks
the curse of doing well
and sucking the life –
out of a social media kiss and tell

i am my own tribute act
learning the words
someone else used to say
i am the freefall juggler
i just go in different ways

going back through your life
is like looking through a rubbish tip –
on top of a gem mine
there is a lot of rubbish
with the occasional precious stone to find