More than Welcome

"Man, I'm Pissed Off", Dingus, Family, Internal Poetry, Poetry, Problems

I hear the words stumble off your lips

And cringe-smile somewhere in between

At the ridiculousness of it. Six whole days?

Passing up the space to be loved and flourish in

For a house to myself and nobody to go to.

Feel more than welcome to forsake your other life.

Again.

Yet here I am, it’s Thursday, and I’m a damn damsel in distress.

The plans I’ve weathered this loneliness for are, of course,

Matters you’d be more than happy to take care of.

I feel like I’m being tricked whenever I hear you get sweet.

I feel like I’m being trapped when I’m here for so damn long.

It’s just a week, but you occupy far more than I’m comfortable with.

I’m marooned on an island I bought a one-way ticket to.

No growth is potent enough. No high is high enough.

There’s no “enough” of anything I can do to be satisfied with this.

I won’t mess around and it’s frigid-ass cold out,

My friends are towns away and I’ve got nothing but my feet to make do till Sunday.

 

You’re more than welcome to fail again to live up to your promises.

You’re more than welcome to leave your friends wondering where you are again.

You’re more than welcome to keep your cousins missing you without reason.

You’re more than welcome to let her drink her “together” booze alone.

You’re more than welcome to turn away from the love Western Mass has to give.

But she’s going to drive you back, right?

 

I’m livid. Enough to mindfully consider breaking my Lent promises.

And what in the hell do I get from this place?

A couple handshakes and a fancy suit don’t justify this.

This clogs my pores and frays my nerves.

I hate missing the bus. I hate missing my family.

It feels like cars and friends have been reduced to strategic isolation

Masked up with duct-tape comfort and half-assed words

That don’t need to be meaningful because I’m STUCK.

It’s the same sugar I see the dogs walking behind their barrier for.

And now I’m trying to do that same thing to someone else to get some meaning from all of this.

I’ve got two and a half hours left to defy this restriction.

But any effort I make will prove unsatisfactory.

I’m livid.

I want my own home again,

Because every time I become a son

I start feeling y’all pulling at me again.

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