Today is no different than any other day despite what we’ve been told
Open my eyes long enough to realize I am still alone, and hit snooze one more time
I toss and turn until I can’t take it anymore
Not the sound of the alarm, not the pawing of the dog…
Those are just minor annoyances that a good pillow can easily drown out but
The thing that forces me to get up every single day of my life, and plod through another series of seemingly mundane and random events, is quite simply, the need to pee.
I find it rather amusing, that simple truth…She gets out of bed because she is a mother and her kids need her.
He gets up because he has a family that depends on him…
The child emerges from bed with innocence, living simply
For that stupid Jake the Pirate Birthday party that
he gets to go to this afternoon…even the dog wakes up with a sense of purpose, living to make the human happy…
and me, well I just don’t want to pee on myself sober.
Category: Poetry by Bill McLain
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I have to pee
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Sacerdote; to my dear friend ginny
i call you in the middle of the night to tell you that i’m crazy
to ramble on for endless minutes about the absolute madness
coursing through my brain like a thousand raging rivers
I call to tell you that i want to die, that i want to live, that i’ve
thought myself into a place where i cant decide between the two
anymore; that i am thinking about her again…that the quietness
in my soul is deafening, that i need some kind of fucking distraction
I call when i’ve exhausted the empty spaces in my mind and i
no longer know what that pretty girl really meant earlier with that text that said “yes let’s hang out soon”
when i’m trapped between hope and fear and all i want to do is fucking run
I call you when i need so desperately to know tomorrows answers today
and the pain of trying to wait that out has become a crippling storm that
threatens to snuff out the tiny bit of light that has survived my darkness
I call you because i need to tell someone the truth, that i am a pretender
that i am supposed to be a mentor to people and that i have absolutely
no idea what i am doing, can do, will do…that I am blind as well…
all of these things i tell you in the sometimes frightening solitude of the night
because somewhere along the line i took to calling you my priest
because i can place my truth in your hands and walk away a free man
if only for a few seconds, minutes, hours…long enough to find hope again.
sacerdote ho peccato e ho bisogno del vostro stasera fede
No Rhymes or Reasons: where freeform poetry meets literary snobbery 