There is no difference

Between two years ago

Etching deep tracks in my skin

With a blade solid to the touch

Smelling of bitter metal

Joined soon with the similar reek

Of the most ancient of sacrifices

Welling from my split skin

And me tonight—as I pound out these words

On a battered laptop

It smells of nothing so much as dust and heated plastic

Yet it is the same

We all come to the point of letting go

Yet in our naivety we hold on

And in this battle with ourselves

Wounds are inflicted

Whether the choking upsurge of our bellies

Or the stinging springs hiding in the corners of our eyes

Or an oft-used blade tearing flesh

Worst of all—the wreckage of a soul

The battering of all things held dear

And yet we fight too much

Not to force the pain out           

But to embrace it closer

There is nothing natural in this quest

To sink the talons of agony

Ever deeper in our hearts

Shake a burr loose

Yes then burn it to ash

But cling tight to smothering misery

The truth is that we’d hold to anything

Rather than face the storm outside

And see the past washed away

Yet while the storm may have no mercy

It has no malice

Nature is ever washed clean by the downpour

So we grow up and let go

And we see that emptiness

Isn’t always so bad