Tribulations

I
As years passed by
I found in me an endless patience for the mad children of the world.
I can sit and listen for days
to the ravings of a cocaine induced monologue.
I am glad to be around those
that bark wildly at the moon.
Those that toast champagne today
and tomorrow they're sharing beer with you,
from a plastic bottle on a sidewalk.
Those that, like me, have no home.
No real place in the world.
All of us dogs, chasing cars into the unknown.

II
I suppose we weave some sort of spell.
We throw our glamor of the damned into the world
and it makes others build prisons from their arms.
To trap us into growing roots.
I could never understand why one would want to be a tree
when feathers wait anxiously beneath the skin.
But I suppose that life outside my shoes
should be none of my concern.
So I walk around the continent and try
to plant more courage
into the hearts of those courageous enough to let me know a bit of who they are.

III
I live. I love. I leave.
I am no different than any other animal.
My affection is violent. Diabolical.
I take great pleasure in small and discreet signals
I receive from those few that still think of me.

IV
I always liked women.
As a child I treated them as equals.
I had a sense that we are all
shipwrecked in the cosmic ocean of time
Although I had no language to explain it.

As a teen,
they grew into planets, distancing themselves away from me.
while I remained, barren and hideous,
Watching. Sighing.
I did not hate them for that.
Even then, I understood the aesthetics of this world.

Now, while collapsing silently into adulthood,
I find myself admired and it feels
like water flowing backwards
into the sky.
Long years have gone by and I watched
disappointment curl into a fist that split my jaw
and let every word pour out.

V
I understand the irony now.