Choosing Day

A Poem by Pony Boy Gold

A relationship too long in purgatory, between true love and murky maybes. If it's to be one sided, at this point, I choose my side, with me.

It's 3am. (no worries, still sober).
Completely sick to my stomach. Nervous. Waiting for a sit down and satisfying answers. I was never good at ignoring matters of the heart, but i thought mine was completely hidden by now. Encased in life's scar tissue. Yet I am ill with this bat cage I have for guts because, what has been a patient, well intentioned battle between what is and what should be is at it's end. I can no longer carry this crushing indecision. We are not new to the garish bits. We are not new to the common paint we share. Rembrandt, jealous of it's color and carefully crafted lines. What we truly are, is afraid. That old goat, fear, muscled in and stands his ground knowing one will turn, going back to calamity and reckless abandon. Living always strangled in their own failure to put brush to canvas. The Great Unknown comes smashing by the second, but push the old goat aside and find the lines within and the colors of your contentment. The bats have invited the vultures and I'm ready to peel these scars, but if fear is to best us I will walk, weightless, knowing "my" goat is dead.

I hope this finds its mark.
Chris