priceless truth

Hello. We are
breathing stale
air and I know
that I am supposed
to make small talk but
all I have thought about
for the past few hours is
how I'm growing up, frail,
from a sprout to a corn stalk.

.

I don't like the pictures
at the airports, or the happy
people standing at the top of
the summit and posing because
they have made it.

I want the grueling moments.
I want the sickening. I want the
pointy bones, the slack jaws, the
shit words being thrown at one another
and the way city lights seem so blurred
all the time because you're seeing them
from someone else's teared up eyes.

I want the middles.
I feel like I am always
living in the middle. They
suck, but at least they are
familiar.

.

Endings are
shitty, and everyone
likes to lie about them.

My psychologist said, "But
haven't the past few years
just flew by?" When I said,
"No. They dragged on," he
stared as if he couldn't
handle someone saying
the truth.