I think when the dew melts and all is well and when the rain comes filling up wells perhaps i will be able to stand tall. It is not simply just a matter of finding that language in particular texts but it is about not being able to get this one specific person out of my mind. 

     Even as i try to articulate myself in imperfect reflective tones she comes in and invades my thought space. the literal laterals form holographic intentions that i can't shape but feel. like i am connected and disconnected, i am desired and not desired all at the same worrying bloody time. it's an addictive violence i come to perpetually.

      it reminds me i am human and i am not perfect. I am not God's gift to women, i will not be a perfect husband, i am not a genius- i am a creator, i am an artist; i eat, sleep, drink and fart.