thirty years whole…

cracked ribs

answers an answer;
gotta breathe
to get it out;
free to inhale/exhale, and
whatever it cost to stay silent
stifle all aches & pain;
keep moving.

when i woke, ashamed,
still breathing (with trepidation
) there wasn’t
anything i could do;
save keep breathing
keep breathing
breathe. talk.

sweetened baby steps;
scars beautiful enough
to demand tears;
assistance from a cigarette
pulls on my damaged-side;
nothing permanent worth
worrying about.

all those voices growing
distant; i’m tired of
waiting. tired of


dedicated to the ones who can’t say it for themselves. please believe me, it has to be said.


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