carry me on your back, if there is space you can make. share me the warmth of your room, if there is space in your heart to create. tuck me in the safety of your arms and nestle me in the resolve of your breath, if you count me as significant. i know i am not the best companion. i let you down so many times and i don't get my act together enough to make you proud. but these clutches and diseased body wants to be healed, wants to get better, wants to be a friend in need, wants to be independent, strong, focussed, courageous, just like you are.
there are voices, demons and memories that tug and pull away. there are choices trying to make me crack. i don't want to end up down in the gutter, irreparable, twisted. the past, i can't change. but the past is what i have when i look forward and it demarcates these things that make it hard for me to stick it out with hope. i want to create reality, good memories to fuel the already flickering hope that dies every now and then. that is why i ask you these favors and say these affectionate strange things. that is why i seem to be a strange person living inside a seemingly healthy body. when the heart and mind is sick, good medicine is creating good and meaningful routines, structures, predictable and reliable relationships.
will you step in, into the water and help me put me back together before the nicotine and rum runs out and blows out my life?
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