Impressionism

Sometimes.
Just sometimes,
You might wonder
How well you dressed up for a wedding party.
How you graduated.
How you moved into your first home.
How delicious a birthday cake was.
How you got your driver's license.
It all felt exhilarating and so impressionable-
Moments for life!

Until you have perspective of them
from the viewpoint of what can crush them
with their weight of actual eternity - 

like a coup, death or a pandemic.

Only then you know how fleeting everything is.

What remains are sunsets and starlight. 

Transient

It's hard to tell the time. It's hard to tell where every year disappears. It's hard to tell the day And the season I'm existing in. Age brings a nonchalance That we mistook as teens for Uncool in the adults we knew then. The tired we feel is Not the lack of vitamin D.
It's a weariness wrought upon us By patriarchy and inequality, Fatigue caused by time and money, how much we've had of both And how much more we need.

Sunday/Monday

Before you know it, it's going to be 8:00 a.m. on Monday morning.
Your Sunday will wither and die a loving death.
You will wake up a little more tired on Monday,
the head and heart heavy at the prospect of weekly machinations.

You were younger on Sunday.
Quicker on your feet.
Limber than usual.
Easier to keep. 

I Can't Breathe

He lay,
a dandelion
withering away
tuft by tuft.
The sun,
red at his feet,
purple mountains
glowering
and waiting for him.
She saw what was happening
He saw what was happening
But the distance
was too much
for them.

The red sun
swallowed by brown dust
that seeped up his legs.
Engulfed him
viciously
till he couldn't breathe. 

Approximately You

They've got you convinced
that you are not you.
It's taken root so deep,
now you've convinced
yourself it really is true.

Make no mistake,
you are born of this earth
same as the violet,
the panther,
the mud and the shark.
And you know in your heart why I chose
those four,
you are color, 
you are force,
you are humble
you are bold.
you are magic
you're fierce
you're forever
you don't fold.

The blood in your veins
they got it stained.
They got you when you
were a kid
so the change is up to
your older self.
And I know with all
the money, the bills,
the time you need
to pick up skills,
to make more money
to keep climbing hills
they told you went higher
and higher
and as you would climb
to bloated forms of happiness,
you don't realize you're in a spiral.

They got you good.

Who the hell are you now
to question and judge?
Fit for circus rings
let the bears and lions out.
Dance to the flute
c'mon, everyone's waiting
and if you don't
make sure you're not there, you're missing.

Missing in action
MIA
That's what they'll say,
cuz everything's now condensed
to three letters.
The smaller,
the shorter,
the more portable,
the better.

So, if you are MIA
don't write shorthand
you got the gift to communicate,
use it!
If you are MIA,
un-taint that blood
you got that fire to retaliate,
use it!
If you are MIA,
find their darkness in you
you got the adrenaline to lacerate
use it!
If you are MIA,
be brutally you,
you got no time to be approximate,
seize it!

Home Sweet Home

If you were to try and track me down,
probability is you will not find me.
It does not take one to be a spy or an undercover agent to hide tracks.
All you need are different jobs,for not just yourself but your friends too;
They’ll move away when their time comes.
After a while, the owner wants you out
or the rent is too high,you don’t find roommates
or the water problems are too much of an added stress in the shitstorm named adulthood,
then of course there are the places your job will send you to
and it’s the cycle all over again.

So if you want to track me down,
probability is you will not find me.
The local grocer, post boxes, addresses, driving licenses,
not even my phone number is a constant
in any of the databases of the multiple systems 
my information is stored in throughout the world.
For all those who have one,
home sweet home.
Where’s mine?
Well, it’s in ten different houses as of yet -Homes sweet homes.
Well, not homes, just houses.
Houses are but homes without a heart,warmth, welcoming smiles and love.
I should just call mine house sweet house instead.

Happy Fuckin New Year

I am blind.
Literally. Figuratively.
And any other words you can think of that end with 'ly'. 
But my other senses work hand in hand to make sure I am sure of whats in front of me. 
Don't be fooled because I can't see.

Those other senses I mentioned,
work hard to make sure I don't stumble.
So I know by how you smell, by how it feels to touch you,
by how it feels to listen to your voice even if you're just whispering,
by how your lips and your skin taste 
that I am sure of you.

I want to be your every new year's kiss,
I wouldn't have it any other way.
I want to down a bottle with you,
of course of your favorite wine, and shout out songs
into the flickering city night.
I want to wolf whistle every time 
you put on any sort of clothes or take them off,
you're fuckin' beautiful anyway.
I want to take your hand and put it around me
and dance any time there's music anywhere.
I want to spend entire days with you,
nothing but skin and bones ( and the little fat from all our happiness )
touching you and sleeping all tangled in each other.

I want all this and I know I don't even need to see
to be assured.

Yeah, I can't see.
I can be sure all I want, but I can't see.
Literally - no. Figuratively - no.
You can see very well,
Literally - yes. Figuratively - yes.
So are you sure of me?