Pin him down, take his fight, release
what he bites,
hangs on to, this disgust at what
it has come to,
the lack and the loss, man, he’s given
up fighting, up connecting, up righting

He’s bottled, so bitter,
waking up
that he’s lost it, realizing
the cost of it:
every one of them moving
’round him, thinking, conceiving
how could he think of leaving
this life of
fortune and feeling. Why does he keep on speeding
toward towns of Daydream and Fleeing?

He’s too much in denial,
can’t stop, can’t
just let it go,
He’s yelling at air and he’s
choking on it

Pin him down, take his fight,
drink his
bitter and tonic, let it burn
through your stomach,
let it burn
these pages pages soaking
bleeding with words
in his own
script that’s so shaky, so washed out
and so pale

And he’s
too terrified to face it, bracing for the
quake of his doing, watch the show
while he ruins
this perfect perfect life that he lives
Yes, he did
give it time, gave these twelve
goddamn years, a good shot,
not enough, it just
wasn’t his best

Cuz he’s too chicken-shit,
too weak
to ask for help when he needs it
just runs away and he leaves it
don’t give a damn and he means it

Pin him down, take his fight
he thrashes and gnaws
against this choked chain of Now
wonders how
to get from here back to where
he wanders around
again there, the truth, it
keeps showing up —
Does he still
have one ounce left of care
in him?


Submitted for OpenLinkNight at


About bittersweetverse

Writer, poet, lover. View all posts by bittersweetverse

13 responses to “Pinned

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