Trust in God but tie your horse

Trusting the you that I wish were me
I will steady my footing and reach
For the life raft designed to save my life

I’m not drowning though,
What good is a life raft when I’m not sinking?
It’s a hope. It’s symbolic of a life being rescued, and I could stand to have one of those. So, here it goes.

Feet two feet apart, hips square and strong,
My arm is reaching out, it’s pulling on my shoulder, I think it hurts
I think its going to separate
Dislocation is what my doctor calls it, a downward spiral is how i refer it.

I wasn’t drowning, why did I reach? Now i’m down, without an arm, and about to drown.
Have you ever tried swimming with one arm? It’s like trying to drive your car into space.
Seriously, next time your in that shiny bucket of pollutants, try to pull it off the ground. Pull on that steering wheel, smash the gas pedal. Blow your speakers, turn off your lights, sweat, honk your horn, pop a blood vessel-did you get off the ground?

I’m not in the water though. I’m not even in a liquid. I’m in a chair. In a Starbucks in Henrietta. How am I drowning?
Maybe my cup of coffee has morphed into a waterfall of caffeine. It’s pouring over my head, my hair is turning brown, my eyes are burning, my nose tickles, my tongue creeps out tasting the espresso, now cold and settled.

I don’t even know if thats what’s happening either though. I think I’m dreaming.

I am awake now. It is time for a poem:

Trusting the you that I wish were me
I will steady my footing and will close my eyes to imagine.

It’s strange to talk to your dreams, you know

-I’m looking her in the eyes and it’s tearing me in two

I can’t maintain a unity with the present and the future

It’s difficult to choose who to be

If I stay me, I forgo the future that could be
If I become you, I have nothing but what I hope is true

If I become you, I’ll die until it’s time is due

To let death overcome me, only for the hope of life to have the final word is a risky venture

A venture worth taking I often ask.

The darkness has fallen, and it’s time to decide.
The phone is under my hand and the the heart is back in my chest.
With the raising of my right hand, I am making a statement about what is best

I left a message and felt no relief.
To hear a voice would be to have fears cease

I’ve been given no such chance
And will be damned to have robbed from me a pass at freedom

I will tell you this once so, have pen in hand,
As life is not yours to choose, untie your horse.

I have a dream to resume dreaming.
And a headache to cure.


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