The Rent is Too High

Slide guitars and Timberwolf howling,

I fix the slow leaks in my eye. 

The elder emo in me is fickle when it

Chooses to bring me up or push further down.  

I have to change the oil in my car, then

I stop by the post office for stamps for the

One bill I still can’t pay online, 

Sometimes I wish it was twenty years ago.  

Seeing bands play live and staying out all nights 

and tied in knots like basset hound’s ears, 

My stomach doesn’t ever know if it’s hungry or

I’ve had simply more carbohydrates to carry on. 

Scratch and sniff the terror hawks in my mind.

Regretful of the last ten years, this redo can’t 

seem to go my way but I forge ahead

with shaky nerves and loads of banana bread.  

My therapist says I’ve trained my thinking

to be of hopelessness and there is a lack of

resolve to her comments, but I know she is

right with her words and can see right through me.