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.