last time I saw him he seemed so sad,
sad down to the bone.
And maybe I’d be more mad about the emotional effluvia that
kind of Sad produces,
(it gets all over you
alloveryou
and eats your heart
replacing it with
shadow)
but I’m a might busy trying to stop the soup,
my heart,
from sloshing out of my ribs.
how can i tell a man, no matter his faults,
his cruelties,
his mistakes,
that the Sadness he feels isn’t breaking his heart all the
same?
Aware and recalcitrant or oblivious and angry,
how can i possibly say
what lattice work of shards has soaked down through his
skin?
In that kind of Sadness, aren’t we all saying the same
thing: How the fuck did this happen? This is not what I want.
So, no, i really have no one else to blame
for letting the truth slip in.
Ignorance or activation,
it’s this inaction that’s a sin.
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