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Personal Note:

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Poem

I’m waiting for the Sun to rise again. 
So I can turn my head.
Close my eyes.
Blare crowded notes of anger and sorrow
against blinds that shield my cowardice to face the glare of a Star that reveals everything that weakens my will. 
I am a Son of the Moon. 
Faithful to the dark.
Thankful for the parched streets,
and the quiet fields where I find myself taking shelter after wasting a quarter tank of gas. Mulling over the feeling of steel meeting concrete at 120 mph. 
I was there. 
Upside down.
Bleeding. 
Glass in my eyes-
and thankful. 
Knowing that it would be over soon. 
But it wasn’t my time. 
Instead, I write these notes to the ghosts 
I left behind. Those quiet serpents that slither their way into my bowels and make their nest of vitriol. 
Waiting for me to accept the venom. 
Knowing that eventually, I’ll cave.
I’ve built up all the momentum. 
Potential energy pointing me toward the antiquity of self-hatred. 
My Moirai in flames. 
She smiles at me, as I’m consumed
by tunnel vision. 
Watching the yellow lines yawn
and sway. 
White knuckles beg to let go. 
My foot is on the floor. 
The engine is redlined. 
The Sun is here. 
Forcing its way through the blinds. 
I turn into the crash of my past. 
Hoping not to dream. 
-James Kelley 2018

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