What there is of me is too much and what there isn’t is too much too, what there is of what I need isn’t enough and what there is of me that’s worth being, isn’t enough either, what I’ve been is clear and in plain sight, what I will be is secret and unknown, what I am is the bridge, but how they meet is incomprehensible. What I want happens in dreams and what I do happens in nightmares and my reality gets an unbalanced application of my possibilities, I am dehydrated by my own tears and in pain from breaking, self-affliction inflicted by self is a hell in its own right, but what if it’s all you’re good at, all you know and anger becomes your addiction and you inflict affliction upon yourself as if to nourish the evil within your very own heart. Every follicle, pore, freckle, eyelash and the epidermal scale says let go thy soul and set free thy spirit, the bullet tip knows my name, but I ate chicken instead of spinach and follow through has no follow through. Quivers in lone dark corners with bitter water rivers of mouth, self-loathing in need of a Brita water filter, in the mirror eye says to eye in whisper glimpses “what’s the big idea”, and eye back talks eye saying “good question”, I am wishy-washy, itchy and splotchy, and on broken knee I pray “home, please take me home”.
© Billy Charles Root
Excerpt from the book The Hyde I Hide
About the Author
Billy Charles Root was born October 21, 1975, in San Bernardino California and was for the most part raised by my father In Rialto and Apple Valley California. In 1995 I moved to Oklahoma where my wife Tina and I have nine children combined and 3 grandchildren. I have been a professional automotive technician for twenty years now and I still am for the United States postal service.
Visit Billy’s Author Page At:www.ctupublishinggroup.com/billy-charles-root.html