I Share It With You

I'm constantly shutting doors because I'm afraid of messing up, but I shut the door - so I messed up. I just have trouble actually seeing myself succeeding at this whole thing, making a living doing what I love doing.

I am so proud of her and I think she is so fascinating. My heart grows ten sizes bigger every day just because she's alive, and she makes me cry (or at least want to) and act funny. I like holding your belongings and feeling like I share it with you.

Peeling An Orange

My friends were wondering if I was alright
back when they shot the shit
on the back deck
smoking a cigarette

and I didn't come out of my room.

I keep hoping they understand now
but I think I'm still in my room.

I wish I could peel an orange on the front porch,
and my wife is hooked to me
on the swing
still.

But I always have this drama
and this deep career manifested
in dealing with myself.

I will always hate myself mostly
and it scares me.

I think about my mom
and how she wishes I loved myself
and how God loves me
and I am fearful of the seventy years I have left
bearing kids
and loving my wife
in a life where I want to be happy
but try too hard.