For You

For somebody jaded enough to consider
taking a plunge through the thin ice crust
into a hell recently frozen over,
this is for you.

For somebody high enough to see
the world in macrovision, full kinetic
high definition, with a bloody TiVo on top
and super seven point surround, impeccable
reception for your supersized perception,
yeah, shut up and listen, this
is for you.

For somebody slushed out on Gatorade
and chewing early morning hour
conversation in cheap chats and
pricey bars, lying through your teeth
on origins of scars,
this is for you.

This is scribblings on the rim of reason,
a holler in the blackout, flashlight flaring
in defiant resistance.
      'Come in, stay the hell out,
      walk this way, keep the distance.'

This is the simplest of statements,
wrapped in too many words. Not even poetry,
the wise would say, and still, from my hands
to your head. This
is for you.

I love you.

And with that nail wedged stuck between
loath and confusion, this text will fade,
redundancy backwind itself out of comprehension,
and I with it. I am not important,
this is
for you,
whoever you are, and wherever
you wish to be.