I wasn’t trying to be difficult
When I collapsed on the floor and couldn’t get up
I don’t know if I can bear this cup
I don’t know how long I can keep sweating blood
I’m getting tired
Of being old for my age
The light burns like a fire
When I’m up on this stage.
Why do so many girls seem to asking
If I’m willing to commit suicide for my family?
As if it’s not love if I can’t pay the price
As if I’m not like Christ if I don’t hate my life
What if I’m real?
What if it’s not a pull?
What if I’m not a steal?
What if I’m hatable?
How could I dare to write a poem
If I can’t pay the mortgage on my home?
How could be concerned about my soul
If I’m not filling the masculine role?
“Honey, making art?
Honey, how could you sleep?
Your behaving like a child
With children to feed.”
Why is no one impressed
Until I turn around with my paycheck
Until I pay my bills
and can afford
To not need anyone else anymore
Do you even care
If I die inside
Or do you just want
A responsible family man’s respectable life?
I always wanted to be like Christ
But I can’t live my life on the firing line
I always wanted a family to feed
But I’m not gonna burn my poetry
I always wanted a wife to adore
But I won’t die up on this white horse
I won’t give up the ghost
I won’t abort my unborn soul