as a madman shakes a dead geranium

sometimes i want nothing more in my life than to throw it all away.

standing half dangling over bridges, overpasses. i am caught in this perpetual moment, looking down, feeling the earth begin to quake as cars pass, buses rumble carrying people with purpose somewhere they desperately need to go. i have no real purpose and therefore nowhere that i really want or need to go. this quivering, tumultuous grasp on the present is the only place i am and currently, i know nothing else. it is though ten thousand years of past intentions have slowly fallen away and i am a vane in chaotic winds, spinning blindly and waiting for the moment something breaks and i take flight. i wonder if i will make a dull thud or a clumsy clank when at last i hit the ground.

i feel ill-equipped for life. armed with power over words and a list of wrongs to write, i fail at the simple daily things-- remembering to eat, finding air to breathe, extracting myself completely when the confusion is too much to bear, paying bills, being on time. i could write a sonnet to make you cry, but i can never say "i love you" with the conviction that i mean, or at the right time. i'm one of those people that no one really knows how to love in the right way, disaster walking until at last i walk away. i took something beautiful and inspired it to shut up like a telescope, cloister some part of itself even further away when all i wanted was to hold it closer. strangely like coaxing the first crocus us the season to open, only to find that the stem has snapped in your hand.