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.
