One day in January, I traversed the I-5
to clear my headspace.
I cranked up The Japanese House on the stereo.
I drummed my thumb along the steering wheel’s edge.
I shifted my attention to the evergreen trees
stacked with white flakes tipping the tops.
I returned my eyes to the road.
A fucking deer trotted into the street.
I pumped my brakes
but collided with the fucker.
And now he’s dead as fuck,
and what the actual fuck?
Great. I was now an animal killer.
I sighed and laughed until I couldn’t.
Misery soaked me.
I can’t reel in anything real.
Broken down on the side
of a Seattle highway,
examining the scattered clouds
as they parted ways with my depression like a sea
crashing against the ledge of boulders of indecision
that weighed me down to the bone.
I gave up until Brandy came along
and made such a beautiful mess for me.
She changed me into someone worth being with.
The pressure of my mind’s darkness strangled
the light from my day.
My technicolor was grey.
I came close to the edge of it all more than once.
I closed my eyes,
and my stomach twisted with the descent,
but Brandy broke my fall.
I stood there, my gaze cast to the ripples below.
Everything was fucked.
A light breeze brushed against my face.
Ease washed across my heart.
Death or life, which one would I choose?
It depended on which life I wanted to live.
Still on the edge, I conceptualized sadness
baptized me in its codependency.
Brandy’s empathetic voice
spoke through her texts.
I will love you forever.
I stayed because Brandy is my everything.