are you really so unhappy? when
you roll down your car window
and stick your head out there
are the thoughts of how terrible
it is to be alive? how terrible it
is to taste the wind against your
old tongue? is that where you
sleep? or is it in the gutter of
your anxieties crawling beside
you like an old dog? are you
really so absorbed in the grand
old shit show on the tele-
vision set that you have not
a single extra minute to just
realize how strange it is to
have ten fingers? to have ten
thoughts minimum (at least!)
on any given day? to be able to
sing a song any song any damn
song not good nor bad but
just whatever bird jumps
into the golden cage of your
rusty lungs? do you not see?
do you not see how many
times you’ve cried? both
ends of that salt water ocean
sealed with the bright glaze
of a sun that cares enough
to choose this planet to
glaze for. are you really so
unhappy? are you really
so captured in this jail
cell that you forget to water
the plants on your barred
window seal? and what of
the big apartment cell blocks
forming the paper calendar
hanging behind you? the one
million candles on birth
day cakes blown from
your windstorm lungs
and out flew the ancient
gods out into the ether
out to make plans to
fill you with love or
maybe to break your
heart? and break your
heart and break your
heart and recover you
will my friend. you will
recover. you will reach
into your back pocket
and therein will be a
photograph and a one
dollar bill. now

are you really so unhappy?

you gotta hear me on this
one. there’s a whole
bunch of love out there
waiting patiently to
destroy you. and here
on the inside there is
only you

painfully safe from the
blowing wind.