Too Much

I talk too much:

I always have, I think.
Five pounds at birth
Already too much
For whatever that’s worth.

I care too much:

About stuff I ought to let go
For as long as I can remember
But it’s not about control;
It requires constant surrender.

I smoke too much:

Because a single is excess
And mine come by battalions
Stamping at my lungs
Like untamed stallions.

I cry too much:

Part of caring and surrender
And just being plain dumb.
The vulnerability of openness
Won’t allow me to numb.

I think too much:

But I’ve spent my life
Mostly alone
In every way that matters
Especially at home.

Lately,

I’m unable to help
With the everyday chores
Because there’s nowhere for me
To take hold anymore
No corner to grab,
To inhabit, or claim.
I’m adrift and undone.
I will never be the same

For better or worse.