lately, i have joined the single few
who go to bars
in an attempt to make the
time stretches and slows
opposite my longings, races past my groping
hands, rocketing into the no man's
land that means i must start over
i am tired of new beginnings
that excite, and then let down.
does not slow for
my broken psyche, my muttered pleas,
the unwillingness to be thrown back
into the race.
i am still wearing my
hobbles, desperate to hold onto
the familiar, yet dying to be free.