Getting too used to Night Shifts (it’s 4AM, no sleep)

A mile is a lot farther when you don’t have feet. What did people do before airplanes? I guess horizons meant more. There were some things that were unimaginable.

I know a man without feet. Sometimes he asks the aides to clip his toenails, and then laughs at them. He went to a meeting once (regarding whether he was satisfied with his care). He didn’t talk for those 30 minutes. Just sang. “My liiiiiiitle buckarooooooooooo.” Bitterness//absent, he’s a miracle like the kind that make you believe in God again.

His horizons though. I’ve been more of a caged bird than him (yeah that time I don’t talk about). You can almost never escape yourself, and I’d feel foolish for trying, but then again I used to be in that business, trying as a full time job, no benefits, no retirement plan.

Lately .. Getting these bars to mutate into something though.

Sometimes I can see the sun from here. Sometimes I can hear the clouds.

 

365


things are capable of changing
ice to water to smoke
over the course of a year


my heart has unfolded

the way a garden worships

spring

rebuilding itself from multiple
warzones of
a winter that has
gone on far too long

I can’t think where my
demons have gotten to
perhaps swatted dead
like flies while I’ve
slept

somehow
it took
less than twelve months
to finally be able to awaken
feverless
into a dark blue that is
only deepening with

stars

—–


time traveler. The past is looking more and more surreal every day.


you ever find yourself crying on an examination table to a doctor who insists you’re only sad because it’s winter?


you ever find yourself unable to even disagree because your confidence level is zero and you have de-evolved to something almost unrecognizable to anyone who knew you before?

—————-

Submit to love without thinking,

as the sun this morning rose recklessly
extinguishing our star-candle minds.

-Rumi

and then the God-Please-Kill-Me-Right-Now hits.

just submitted a confessional poetry piece for my poetry class

(SPOILER ALERT:  Melodrama)  I am so nervous.  baring my soul to a class full of strangers…. ughhh I feel like puking.  It’s a decent poem though.

realityDream, deviantart.com

maybe I can just live as if I’m being reborn every moment.  no past, no regrets, just endless future.


I don’t think the quality of this is very good.  just look it up on spotify.


i’m a mess, happy or otherwise, depending on the day.