The Left
share this burn, this cut,
this scrape, the scraps of
fight that’d been experienced
only yesterday, get it out,
scream it in this direction,
for to be left alone isn’t
really possible if you
demand it.
share these tales, your tales
of woe, the things you think that
no one will ever understand,
because you’re savagely mistaken,
as you’re only a mix-up like the
rest of us & you’ll be dead soon anyway,
so with a life so ****ing short &
useless to anyone but yourself,
why not unleash your burden?
why not flush it away?
why not stop pretending that no one
has ever been there before &
that this suffering is somehow unique?
share these songs, these words of
estrangement, these worries, these
hopes, these places you go when you
want to run away---put them down somewhere,
leave them for those who want to find
them, keep them marked upon the plain
that is our whole reality, together, despite
what those who want to think otherwise,
without judgement, without obligatory
following of whatever herd they want you
to,
because to be left alone isn’t really
possible,
if you demand it &
you have to
keep on demanding it.
share these tales, these songs, these burns,
these cuts, the scrapes, the scraps of all the
fights you’ve had & all the fights to come,
the worries, the hopes, the places that you
want to go when you run run run as far away
as you think you can,
but
be ready to listen,
always be ready to listen,
for it’s a give & take existence &
someone is always on the brink of tears,
someone is always screaming inside,
someone is always breaking up,
someone is always taking it out on themselves,
someone is always
always hurting &
they just don’t have to,
if you are there.
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