empath

 

 

empath

To be able to feel others’ feelings

as your own

in this odd world , quite frankly,

 is no party.

A demise born into, most certainly not chosen.

i am a human pin cushion,
over-sensitive

 far too-easily bruised.

Bananas? Perhaps.

But, I am so sorry, sir:

  Yes, we have no bananas. We have no bananas…

Talking to no one today,
i take refuge in my stacks of books and
jars of paintbrushes

tubes of paint are loyal friends.

i will go running after dark
to a chorus of peepers
under the moon,

invisible.

i will paint my life a different color
if i want to,
because i need to.

people  hurt,

like hot pebbles on August asphalt,
stuck in skinned knees

or a tiny shard of
a broken wine glass,

accidentally

stepped on,
barefoot and inebriated

— so in love you don’t notice

 until  bloody footprints

  dance around your flat

in all their crimson splendor.

Love leaves.

Blood stains,

hardwood

and souls.

This pain can be ignored or deflected,
but
i choose to use it
as fuel.

Do not play with fire
unless you enjoy
being
burned:

a gentle admonition delivered

with piercing eyes.

Do as thou wilt,
is the whole of The Law–

but harm none.

JJC   9.14