To Air is Human

I lose my shit at the drop of a dime lately. I have the patience of a female praying mantis who just tore her mates head off and ate it after fucking him.
I have very fragile emotions since my sister passed...I have no room..no privacy to let them burst wide open so I lash out.
I lash out at a two year old who I love more than life itself because he's disagreeing with everything I say...because after I reconfigured his crib into a "big boy bed" he just roams in and out of it at bed time pulling shit off of shelves and spreading mess into my trip wire anger vortex.
He deserves better than my lack of steady good daddy-ness. I just want to open the front door and run...leave him a PBJ and hit the road sometimes, knowing the difference between rational and reckless.
I worry and forget, retool and regret, rinse and repeat, singe and reheat, defeat and retreat, binge and re-eat, detract and deplete. destruct indiscreet..constrict incomplete. Conflict in concrete. new drum....old beat. old beat....new street. toot horn--mute bleat. slick grass, no cleat. set sail-no fleet.
I lose my mind every afternoon
not enough room for everything that needs to be there
the stress makes every blink hurt
makes every word leading up to a point fall off conversation cliffs
the abyss lasts until morning light
6am and there's those responsibilities smack you at attention
leech sucking you into sleeping upright through the days
dazed and drained
over fazed un pained
have no choice but to push on
suits called Dad and Husband
and productive man in society wait for my imperfect fit.
Lists I keep roll off like
water on wings
wading into things
waiting in wings he who sings
waiting to see what he brings
fading like a sting
tugging at a string
who is listening.
song is deafening
lessening
lessoning
christening the imaging.
right side pain in silent ring.
cradle breaks with withered slings
push your mood out on the swing.
for all the shit that it can fling
is endearing to the
all fearing.