i am crazy

all of these odes to love, to her, to things never quite in grasp

all i do is scribble lies to turn attention from the insanity that grips me

i am not the wizard of heartbreak

i am the unloveable man behind the curtain

spitting flowery prose to shine the light on the absence of being inside of me

to distract from my inner failings and point the aim at the lacking elements of the universe

it isn’t her fault

it isn’t the universe out to keep me sad

it is my own damn responsibility to take care of me

my solitary confinement is a self fulfilling prophecy that has me fall for those who don’t want me

it is safer that way, the rejection is a given, a forgone conclusion from the beginning

there won’t be wasted time

like cutting your arm and immediately cauterizing the wound before a drop of blood spills

you get to savior the pain of the act of severing nerves without any last damage

plus another scar to parade about

scars make you look tough and misdirects the gaze from my empty, souless eyes

they say you find love when you stop looking for it

but since i was a child it was the only thing i looked for

maybe that is why the glimpses of it are the only tantalizing taste i have received

because, like a fool, i refuse to stop looking

as easy as stopping one’s own breath, eventually you succumb and pass out only to start up again

so on the typically sleepless nights when she is the only thought in my fever infected mind

when sleep finally comes right before the alarm bell rings

that is when i look again

but the problem is me

i know it, deep down

never good enough, strong enough, rich enough, smart enough, none of the enoughs necessary

pathetic enough, sad enough, never enough

but not just right

caught in the cycle of goldilocks searching for right porridge

but the bears have an infinite number of kids

and i have a finite number of choices

and i always sit indecisive

too busy focused on is it before me

too caught up on the little things to realize the big picture is over and these are just the closing credits

and there is no after credits scene

no extra credit for another vain attempt

crazy is my ball and i am taking it home

not skillful at games to be a competitor, just happy enough to watch the game

count my scars, all self inflicted

and lay the blame at another’s feet

knowing damn well it was mine

always mine

these self cauterizing wounds of self mutilation

this empty room

this pounding headache

mine

alone