lemonade worries

I have found that the world likes to throw me with boulders called life, and pointed sticks that are known as love, that shatter my heart and leaves me bleeding.

i have found that i am constantly deciding whether i should hate myself or the people around me, and that my pride has to constantly carry my self-esteem.

i have found that life likes to kick me in the balls with steel toe boots and then laugh as i try to stand up.

but i am trying..trying to stand up after the kick, trying to be the fish that finally takes the first breath of air, trying to be the illusion my mother has of me.


sometimes i feel as awkward as a one legged giraffe trying to play the banjo, and sometimes i am as lost as a pedophile in an old age home, or a nun in a brothel and i'm trying to find my way back to church.

When it comes to other people's feelings, i am a camera on blur, and when it comes to my own, my shutter is closed.

Maybe i feel too strong or take things too personally or maybe i'm just me. The one with the glasses and small poems that i wrote while sitting in my room like a hermit afraid of the sun

but i have found that there is relief

like a drug addict searching for his next sniff, i'm looking for the things that dull the knocks of everyday life.

i have found that it helps to talk, whether it is to myself or others

i have found that it helps to tell myself that everything is in fact not so bad and that my life is worth something more than hidden poems and metaphors.

i have found that some things ease the endless knocks from the hammer that is life, falling on my head to the beat of a tango-tune

things like sniffing flowers, and sitting down peeing,

practicing my sarcasm, and silently cussing,

cuddling with pillows and singing off-tune

looking in your eyes, and hearing you talk,

all this helps.

it drowns life's sorrows in sweet lemonade until all my worries taste like a childhood drink.


The End

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