Good Enough

Gnawed Stones,

Teeth marks on bone

Bloody butter knives

In the front lawn

That's never seen a mower. 

Real men chew finger nails
and wear coats
and require eye contact

And some even pay rent

Or pay at least a little mind

To what the kids might eat

Bloody tips

And all the apologies. 
dieseased organs, 

Sunken gums, 

The post traumatic stress;
the things I hide
The things I hide.

I was left alone
in a church for a whole year
in my early twenties.
No one came to see me
Not even the lord.

When my legs grew back
I shaved my head
and ran for the fields
and was promised eternal youth

But youth was a trap 

Too. 

I took so many quiet years
but I've settled all my debts

I thought that would be good enough.

But no.

Malt liquor is freedom 

And I knew more about truth and reality 

Before I lost my first adult tooth 

In a slap fight 

With a drug dealer