A Letter to My 25-Year-Old Self

i keep looking to your reflection
i've seen you in mirrors in homes
and apartments past
but lately you look like a stranger

you wear my clothes
you have my face
my facial hair
my unkempt hair
but i don't remember you

i saw you in the fog
as a shadow with jeans
and t-shirts and records
tucked under your left arm

now i don't know who you are
or where you think you're going
but after all these years
for once, i have to admit
that it's you cannot follow
and where i'm headed
you cannot come

but i'll miss you in some ways
i'll miss the shallow confidence
that you have displayed in bars
and behind drum kits, and with
broken pens in your right hand

i'll miss the long walks
where we'd deconstruct
every thought from the day before

i'll miss the way you
seamlessly anchored me
to your loneliness

but i wont miss the knife in my back
i wont miss the way you lied
and betrayed and gave in
to every selfish whim

you ruined me
in front of family
and friends
and lovers

now you must go it alone
you must go your own way
you must die
and be buried
surrounded by nothing but
dirt and your own
rotting bones

yeah
i'll miss some things
but i'm glad you're gone

118th Street

i've tried my luck clenching my teeth when i sleep
leaving one eye open, so I can see the smoke
as it seeps into my bedroom window

the smoke clouds form a half-crooked smile
then the smile says with a lisp,
"everything is broken, and you are a ghost"

i close both of my eyes
i loosen my teeth
i let my gums bleed out
and i smile

i try all of this
night after night
in the shadows
that bury me
and my woman
between bedsheets
between winds
and layers of ice and cold water
pounding against our metal roof

but when i wake up
as the sun pours through
my rain-soaked window
we open the blinds
and we give it another try