Part I

It is actually impossible to carve out words
that could make it to this letter
I send to the other lives I left scattered around,
lost and discarded,
defaulted loans, defaulted years.

A sense of sadness that permeates all
is what this grows into.
I recognize in the stones of places
that I had never before been to.

It's everywhere. This acute sorrow...
maybe that is the dark matter they search.

I first sensed it as a child.

But I did not know what it actually was.
I just stared at the afternoon's last waft of sun.

Coming back home. School bus.
Not taking part of the raucous games.
It was just this broken seed inside of me,
flourishing its little thorns,
faithful companions of the night.

Outpour from a small heart,
growing meaner with age.
And more scared.

A heart that sometimes wishes for things
that are big and dark.

A heart that wants to slap destiny in the face,
and yet it is scared to death of beating a tad too loud,
like an orphan in the wrong foster family.