The Slush-trudge

My worst trademark is that I try too hard,
I seem to have the worst hand
but still play all my cards.
I’m best friends with the dawn
even though
I’m always waiting on the sun.

I swear the weather is directly tied to mental health
and you can see it on my face
when I can’t find myself.
In the middle of winter,
I shiver,
thinking of the Oregon coast.

Promises don’t mean a thing
illuminated on a cell phone screen.
Maybe I’m just getting older
but I still crave
I still crave sincerity.

I’m lost again in a hurricane
daydreaming of the interstate highway;
we all have places we’d rather be,
as for me
I’m just trying to salvage my sanity.

I’m done handing out my sympathy.

This place will never know how it’s haunting me.

The midwest has me planning the day I leave
I’m almost cold as a stone now, finally numb to the grief.
I’d lend you my heart
but these days
borrow is just another word for take.

For now we’ll all die here a little bit more
losing pieces of ourselves
through the cracks in the floor.
And I think we go mad
searching for the pieces
that immutably escape.

I’ve gone mad trying to find a better way.

I’m trying to deal with myself but keep on struggling.
Stop making me promises cause they don’t mean a thing.
I’m swear I’m running away when I find the time,
to the shoreline
to the Pacific pine.

I’m sinking out of line.
I hope someday I can say I’m fine
and not lie.

The Slush-trudge

Nathan Emery

Joined September 2009

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  • Nathan Emery
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