Let Me Go

You bang on my door like a knock knock joke that I'm scared to hear the punchline to.
Because the who somehow always turns out to be you,
and its always nothing new, and we've been through this same old sing-a-long song and lap dance before.
Its like you tore a page out of the playbook,
and you've been trying to reinvent the paper airplane. Folding over and over using the same piece until there's a crease running in every direction and that shit won't fly.
And its okay, cause I feel grounded these days. Less like a bullet that strays into a crowd looking for a home. Passing through bone as if it were another big city stop on a vacation planned with a sightseeing book.
See I took a class on listening so I could hear something positive. Then live happily with a mindset that will get me altitude when needed. I've got a confidence so deep seated its growing in reverse.
And I rehearse handshakes with titans because even giants need someone to look up to.

"Open fire. Theres wounds to be licked.
Near the eyes, you inherited.
In a bar, people wait for their numbers to come, one by one.
They ride, and so will I. I forget that I don't live here anymore.
It's not my scene. I'll wait to be amazed,
by a voice I'm not expecting.
Open fire like a car crash. Open fire on the names and the faces.
Open fire and as you fall back. Open fire on the city."

And if we agree to disagree, then we never took the time it takes to analyze the mistakes we made.
We stayed at a stalemate where the rate of progress was equal to a snails pace in a rat race where people chase fairy-tales. Hoping all the happy endings get married to the tragic beginnings and all the ever afters last forever.
And I'm the first to admit, I sure wish there was a Never Land. Where time never takes us by the hand and forces us to grow old.
I wish every lie told would make our noses grow. That way we'd know who the politicians should be.
Let me go, so I don't cut your heel trying to fit your foot into a glass slipper I already smashed against the sidewalk.
Let me wander within a flock to show that wolves have got teeth too.
And they've bitten through my tongue everytime I've had to hold it, and when I've had to hold it, I have held it. And I've got the words. I've got words so sharp they'd have to drive you to the hospital just to stop the bleeding.
I'm tired of you needing us to be friends. Let me go. So I don't slip and say something like, "The only person who lets me down more than god...
is you."
See.
I didn't mean to. But somewhere along the way I grew a mouth like a cannon. So the next time you ran in and out of my secret lives, I'd have some knives of my own I could throw and I know my aim is getting better because now I can say your name in a prayer.
Its right there. Next to the hallelujah, and the goodbye.

"Looked for a radio. A voice built by sin.
Indulgence in the finer things.
Build a room, with the letters that you never sent.
And never meant to. Who's it sent to?
Every train, that you can catch, will arrive.
Every hour. Every day. With every phone call. Every response.
Is expected.
Open fire like a car crash. Open fire on the names and the faces.
Open fire and as you fall back. Open fire on the city lights."

I try to fit and fill a cathedral where the needful kneel and feel nothing now.
I somehow believe you less and less. And I guess I trust you about as much as I should.
Which could be another way to say I wonder if I ever did.
Wonder who was hiding behind each eyelid when you had to close your eyes just to touch me.
Wonder where I'd be if I hadn't let you use my own physicality to weaken my arms and legs against escape.
Wonder what you did with that cape I used to keep hanging in my closet.
Let me go. Like an atheist caught in an undertow hoping to nothing that maybe he was wrong.
Let me belong to myself again. Then stand back to back with a mountain and ask people, "Am I taller yet?
Cause I kinda got my heart set on being huge."
And I figure maybe with a bigger heart I can love strangers a little more. Laughter can be my encore to every smile and I could pile pyramids against hurricanes and have hands like cranes and lift the heavy burden of loneliness from the shoulders of the dejected, because the world needs a friend.
And maybe I could bend minds around the concept that depression is dangerous. And we can't afford to have 911 dismiss unhappiness as if it wasn't a god damn emergency.
We should be sending out hugs like they were blood, food and rescue teams. We should be holding the hands of the comfort less, teaching them to walk balance beams.
And yet it seems more likely, that you would keep me in a constant state of unhappy.
Which lends a truth to the theory about misery in company.
Let me go. I've got shit to do.
I've got to get a shiny new friend that I can prop up beside me and say, "See, I'm alright. I've got a fight scheduled by the bike racks for the week after next."
But I've gotta put it in context. So that when they write a story on my back in blue and black ink you won't think its about you.
Cause a story is only true if you live it. The minute you give it a personal touch it becomes something that the facts were based on.
And we could argue endlessly over wrong and right but day and night occupy both spaces between dusk and dawn.
So let me go because the truth is...
I'm gone.