If There Were Reasons

If there were reasons to breathe
Then this action would have been voluntary
Not to say that there aren't
Or it isn't
But we cannot be left to manage such affairs
Constantly asking for do overs
Screaming "my bad," all the way down
To wherever screaming babies go

Reduced to a sauce
Since, on one hand,
We are a mound of atomic slop
And, on the other,
We are dynamic stardust
So perfectly put together
That we are all left to believe
We are not just celestial, but special, touched
our own personal unicorns
Sent here to protect ourselves from ourselves

Because, the other hand,
(That sloppy atomic one)
Is a bubbling fissure
Of bile and ingrown hairs
A stew born of matrimony or ill intent
But a savory, stinky stew nonetheless
A simple stew
Where the same thing that brought sweet blue eyes
Can be boiled down to a whitehead

And is that so bad
To be so dynamic
Constantly crushing our weaker hand
And nurturing it back to health
With prayers and psalms
Steadfast and solemn
Until we become our own headache
Cursing our weaker hand back to broken
For what a fool it made of our fortitude
All of us hiding in our own personal closets
Petting our unicorns
Before we pull up our pants
One leg at a time
--
5.16.06