I’m not chain smoking, but
I could be. I wonder what
will become of me, of us.
can your abundant love
fill the void in my soul
that I usually stuff
with m&m’s and rum
and weed and shrooms
and whatever feelings
I can get my hands on?

or will I ruin it somehow,
by being too detached,
by keeping a part of myself
always separate?

is that what I did wrong
before, or was it the opposite?
trying to become one, I sacrificed
my all, and it still
wasn’t enough.

how to be oneself
and still part of
a greater whole.

it’s hard to be alone now,
when we’re so often
together. by the time
I get used to it again,
you’re back. just when
I remember that it’s nice
to be together, we’re apart
again. just when I think
I’ve got it figured out,
my illusion of control
is shattered;
a kaleidoscope.

meanwhile my ghosts
don’t come around as much
anymore. for that, at least,
I am grateful.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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