Powerfully Turbulent

Powerfully Turbulent 

As the minute hand hums 
the passing of time 
from one hour 
to a day 
to the coming month 
of this man's dying 
birth
dying again
and once again rebirth 
the banshee screams 
of the pain of the New Year's Kiss 
brought upon me 
I though where finally fading. 

But of late 
every time I speak 
I feel like I'm punching myself in the gut 
and the silence brought upon saying 
"I'm doing okay" 
apparently was quite 
because you don't want to scare off 
the prey that is my healing heart. 

The dripping jaws of anxiety 
have been waiting patiently 
as the birds of paradise once again thought it safe
to land on the icy shores 
of solitude and hope. 

The silent breathe of that anxious beast 
hidden the clouds of the depressive blues 
rages turbulent 
as joy leads to hate
hate leads to tears
tears lead to the abyss
and the line I've built to pull myself out 
once again looks like it might not be strong enough 
since I think at the top of the ledge
there might not be enough hands 
for be to believe are there. 

I sit in my hole in the ground 
cluttered with the signs that I've been more surviving 
than living 
thinking in fear 
of quickly the hopeful wind 
can carry daggers when the thought of you 
the thought of loving another 
the thought that I could be with someone 
makes me pour the held back tempest in my eyes 
but at the end of the day 
I still feel like I don't deserve it. 

That I am forever cursed to be too turbulent 
for happiness to ever truly grow