under the summer rain

i’m a little emo
over love stories
she says
and i don’t have
the courage to tell her
i’m a lot emo
over most everything

the intricacies of human contact
are taxing
wonderful
but oh so very taxing

i felt
just for a few moments
like i’d found something
long lost
not forgotten
i’d call it normal

i wonder
on hindsight
if i’m just so out of practice
or if it just isn’t in my cards
i’m all mechanical menace
and a thousand false faces
maybe that’s why we fell apart

and the harder life tries
the worse i push back
and at the end of the day
i’m not much more
than a violent vagabond
raging at nothing in particular
but everything

we discussed
such wonderful things
not the least of which
were the convictions of nature
decimating the reinforced nurtured behavior
and in that vain
i question whether
this isn’t the cosmic backlash
i’ve tracked across the northern sky
but rather something different
in the great below
and its intriguing
because what if i met someone
different too?