single

the life of trying to not be single has mutilated our internal organs.
for some love is maybe, some others is not
a conditional thing, fairweather loving

My solution? avoid it. save us barrels and buckets
of pain and disillusionment, going to sleep and waking up
with nothing but balls of twine wrapped up in your stomach
sharp splinters and thorns of a jumble within,
that has nothing to do with love.

so long as relationships continue to harbor
these dingy's of pain and disappointment,
then maybe we won't be sailing any seas
maybe we are made for land and the trees
when there's mountain abrasively clinging to air
what's a cool ocean breeze but some wind in your hair
not a sign of enlightened potential somewhere
just a gust from dark water o'er wreckage & despair