red, yellow, green
Category: Poems

there are times much like these
where the bite of the air tells me to stay under covers
or my body will forget how to perform it's functions.
and i wonder if i'll see the end of my calendar,
at my own hand,
or if i won't have to make it look like an accident.

I used to have bloody noses a lot as a kid.
at first i hated them, 
but soon i was accostomed
to the red drip, drip, drip
of the substance that kept me alive.

I'd've been thinking of that calendar quite a lot, 
actually,
if  i'd not been too occupied by the train tracks -
just past that yellow line.

and gatsby never knew what the green light meant.
It means 'go'.
and let me tell you, 
I sure am ready.

truth be told though -
I am afraid.
I am so terribly afraid.