Burdens aren’t so hard to bear
when you’ve always lived there;
on the upside of the yellow stripe,
where all the extra piles on.
Taxi confessions turned on and
I’m taking them for a ride
to the other side of heavy, as the
broadcasts stream
beings from seemings
into the skin of my universe;
where I feel each pitted verse
along the grooves of my pulse.
This is a one-way conversation.
Regulations won’t carry my story
to the news.
I can’t be the muse when blues
only belts in the sound room
of my soul. And so I roll.
But the backseat chauffeurs
breaking headlines – the stuff
others’ dreams are made of – from
stations to pit stops,
bottomed-out alleys to rooftops;
these lids folding with the flipping
of every page, watching each dance
take its stage in the heart of my
playhouse.
The seats are stacked and I’m
pumping the brakes for another
thumb on the run…
capacity won’t fill in this expanding air.
Bring on your weight and the
luggage to spare.
I am your right here, and the
meter goes black until we find there
because everywhere
someone’s got something to give
and no room to take, but I will
relive the stakes with you;
carrying these fragilities within
the armor of my mobile fortress,
until I find the key to my exit door.

For Dungeon Prompts: I’d Still Like to Learn…

As someone who always takes on the burdens of others, refuses to share my burdens with anyone, and seemingly carries the heavy load effortlessly; I think it will be wise for me to eventually learn to move out of the “loading zone” and, perhaps, even unload some of the pile up already sitting on my shoulders… just sayin’. 🙂