all for one

I spend approximately
one hour each day
driving my car
to and from
my job

and for one hour
each day
I am truly alone

with all those remaining
hours that frame a day
laid to waste for the desire
of others

and the others are always
fighting for and devouring
the scraps of the day
I am unable to claim
as my own

all those hours not mine
simple sand poured through glass
given away for free
to no one and everyone
but me

I suffocate from this and
I feel claustrophobic and
I need that precious hour
to breath, to think, to get back
to that thing that makes
me whole and makes
us all feel human

but if time could be
bought and sold
bottled and stolen
I would still go on
wanting

because that goddamn drive
will never be long
enough

This Guy

I knew this guy once
who would shoot bottle rockets
out of his car window
and he would drive
on the wrong side of
the road

he would work all day
and drink all night
screaming at his reflection
in the bathroom mirror

he gave his heart
to women who didn’t have one
and received no love,
no mercy, no trophy,
no remorse

he would dive head first
into mosh pits
only to return
bloody, torn, puking
and smiling

he drove his Volkswagen van
across the country
just so he could
pedal his bicycle
back home

he would beat up his cousin
for buying crack
so he could tell him
he loved him

he would spend all of his money
buying me beer
so he could tell me
about his life
and his sorrow
and he would not allow
me to hate him

he was all I have
never been
capable of being

and I never once
thought him to be
crazy.