New Leaves This Color

The depression is so thick I cannot see the end of it.

I stare off and my mind makes shapes 

Out of 

Tricks of light

On my bedroom wall.

And this to me is everything.

It is the fallacy of the world 

And how 

Relationships are like trading

Transparencies atop a flickering projector.

They hold promise until a bulb burns out, 

Or until everyone in the room admits they

Aren't really learning anything.

Am I getting what I paid for?

I went to a show last night

And fumbled my feet around

To try to make it better. 

I thought seeing droves of people I hate

Would shovel the memory of the wake

Of my grandfather out of my chest

Like a coffee scoop. 

I imagine my compartmentalized hurt as little granules. 

I hated every one of them and heard every word they've forgotten 

They've said 

At some point, 

Somewhere,

Back there...

That's punctured me.

Call it spiritual abuse,
Or the spinal column in my back
That never fused together. 

And anger pinged in my tiny brain like a school bell. 

I walked home with anvils around my ankles. 

It doesn't take Jesus telling me I'm divisive 

To make me want to cut my tongue out.

Heres, my throat too. 

Take my voice box, God. 

And all my fingers. 

I cannot steward this portion. 

I am still somewhere back in middle school

Starving to death for

Affirmation from adults big enough

To make me feel small. 

And I feel small

Enough to sneak out the back door

While my old friends are singing songs about how good you are. 

So, I do.