Have you ever had
a BOIL on your body,
you know,
the green kind
that pusses all up to white,
and hurts so bad
that you think
that if it doesn’t pop,
then you won’t be able
to cope with living
one more minute?

It gets real hard
and if you bump it
up against something,
then every obscenity
your big brother
ever taught you
comes flying out
before you even
open your mouth?

This is why people
fear change I think.


You have to go through
intense pain
to get to the gain.

Life is the same way.

You are on an easy road,
then you see a higher road,
and you are drawn to the challenge
of following that path,
but you realize
after letting go
to start the climb
that you are alone
in your quest,
and the road up
looks impossible.

This is where I am today.
All I can do is cry.

The pain of the boil
is so intense
that if it doesn’t pop soon,
then IT will be unbearable.

It’s like nature’s way
of letting go
of everything toxic
that I have been
holding on to.

The loneliness I feel
after leaving my familiar path

I grieve the loss of what I had.

It has stirred up old feelings
of doubt and insecurity,
and has re-introduced me to
the fear that I long ago fucked.

I cry out to remember
that ALL past boils have burst,
that ALL past climbs up the mountain
have introduced me to something
that has been even more rewarding
that the easy road that I left.

I cry out in hope
that the upcoming gain
will outweigh THIS pain.

I have nothing left
to hold on to,
outside of remembering.

Roadside. Reusable. Ridiculous.