Can We Stand?

I can hear the hesitation in his voice,
like the creaking of a door,
He was comfortable, before.
“Why move forward?  It’ll only wear me down.
down, down. 
No way but down.

“Why be perfect?
it’s so hard, so boring,
All critical voices, never adoring,
Least not the ones I hear.
And aren’t those the only ones that matter?
The ones you hear, the ones you fear, the ones you hear…”

I cannot comfort this, I don’t really even understand
Sitting broken before me,
What do I do?  I haven’t the tools…
Shall I fix the painting with a crayon?
It’ll work if the hole is small enough…
How big is the hole?  Will it grow, will it grow?
How big is the hole?

And then there’s me, with my darkened gaze
My hollow eyes, my destructive ways
My sleepless nights, my drunken days,
…
I, too, am broken, a broken friend
helping a broken friend
What gives?  Can I stand? 
Hide the fracture within me
until his mends?
Can I?  Can I stand?

He cannot, I cannot,
But should he lean upon his left foot,
And I upon my right
And we hold each other in the middle
It could be all right
We could be all right.