If not my veins,
at least, then,
the throbbing of my blood.
I just want to stay connected,
and not pretend
that all is alright.
To sleep without worry,
that maybe this night
might be different.
To no longer watch
my hands wrinkle,
as I worry about tomorrow.
I don't want to think about
yesterday's sorrows.
I just want breath,
and feel the lungs take in life,
not the lie I live on.
I am tired of being hung
over the fence of what should and could be,
not over self-disappointment,
or uncounted beer bottles.
I want to worry little about
what I said or thought of.
Instead, feel the love
of holding people I love close.
I want the dose of life,
not in excellence, but in truth;
in experiences I could look back,
and say all was intense, but I lived.