Don't.

Seven out.

Line away.

Be the "don't".

That's the thing with pedestals,

It isn't the dizzying height that's the problem,

It's the inevitable fall from grace.

Tried so hard to hang your hat

Somewhere lofty

Pointed hard to something you could be proud of

As if that was the thing that would bring all the pieces together

All I ever was was a dainty ballerina in a box

A picture in a locket

A dream on a bookcase

A story you might write about someday.

Not a real thing with hopes and cracks and mistakes.

Held eachother up so far, we come to drowning in the fall.

I found a way to understand anyway, once.

I found some space to breathe and love and keep from giving up on the idea

In a way I really needed.

That maybe I wasn't just a way to make up for everything that had ever been wrong, 

That I wasn't just a pretty shiny thing that stood up where the world had failed you

I somehow found some forgiveness and real trust for you

Could you find the same for me?

Or have I bet the field, again?

Never quite pays off.

Two and twelve just too hard to roll-

Too much to ask for.

Hope for.

Too far gone. 

And so it goes- seven out, line away.

Pay the don't.

Leftovers.

"Say something, I'm giving up on you."
Do something, anything.
Tell me the bright days ahead aren't
all but impossible.
Tell me my faith wasn't misplaced
Tell me my hope isn't for naught
I dreamed about forgiveness,
And strength.
I got preached at by the choir
about anger, and disappointment and loneliness.
Don't I know it all.

February.

It... isn't me.
Don't take it personally.
I get it, I can probably be intimidating
I'm not doing it the way you want it done,
So I'll take a step back.
Do my time and earn some small-town respect.
The only time you all have seen me show my stuff,
It wasn't my best.
I'm not my best these days,
And maybe as such I'm not the right person for this job.
I get it.
I gotta earn my stripes.
You were so willing to hand things off,
I just figured I could take it and run with it.
I didn't think you'd still micromanage
And hit me with a bap on the head just to put me in my place.
It's ok.
I don't take it personally.
You've fought hard to get here.
But - so have I.
I'm good at rules, at playing the game.
I'll play it all the way down.
I didn't get to run two extremely successful independent troupes
By fucking up.
But you can't see that.  And, I wouldn't trust me either.
But maybe too, maybe this isn't the best time for me to be taking on such an ambitious project.
Maybe you shouldn't be talking behind my back.
So. Many. Frustrated.
And so many anxious at 6am.
My usual 6am anxiety reeling its ugly head.
Maybe it's time for some 6am wine.

Back for more.

All pain is temporary.
This is not the pain of injury or injustice,
It is the pain of fear, doubt and weakness leaving my body.

"I must not fear..."