I wish

I could sit across

the table from myself

and look at the shell,

the bundle of broken nerves

and the uneasy anxiety, directly, squarely

in the blue eyes, those eyes

that have seen too much

and tell me

to let go, to damn myself

for my annoyance, for not having

the spirit to tell some

to go to Hell for their mistakes

and revelling too much in mine;

stupid boy, no answer

from your sallow lips and misty

eyed memories, holding back tears