the elephant in the room
is that I am beautiful
and you, as well
as this day’s potential

what is a day, but a rotation together
conscious magics between deep chasms of sleeps
we enter both world’s beauty willingly or not
with lizards running on desert rocks
and mister suicide’s cough
and gentle seeps, of that which is far too delicate to mention
but in small whispers

unrealized by walking remorse all over the island
I can see it
there is something about every day to frighten
yet there it is
beauty’s generous smile
given to those who grew up as you did
making the same mistakes