there is nothing wonderful
about drowning
in a sea of vodka tears

streaming and burning down my face
for no reason other than
the fact that i am
suffocating
under the weight of all this
so-called simple
complexity

each time we try to simplify
another important line
disappears into the
scraps we're throwing away
until the rules of the game
resemble a fortune cookie--
omni-applicable and tragically vague.

there's no need to create
such a frame
to surround every word
we say
trying so hard
not to take it out of context
that it's meaning
is sacrificed barbarically.

Every look,
every gesture becomes
engulfed in
what he said the day before veteran's day
last spring
and what she dreamed about
next monday
and not in the simplicity of
a gentle tap on the head
or a kiss on the neck.

I'm tired of sheilding my
ears
and filtering the thoughts
that fly out of my mouth
I want to drink myself full,
kill clumsy inhibitions and
shout from rooftops
and cling to trees
screaming into the wind
"What is Love
without support
like this?"