the future intent to touch constellations
have begun to run parallel with my knees.
rip tides have taken sand from my porcelain.
i am now in the in betweens of bruising and airtight
pores leaving nothing to the wolves,
with the pushes and pulls repeating in history textbooks.
indians had the right idea,
respecting the ground they walked upon and holding generosity
as a badge of pride. we have lost that,
searching for solutions to continue youth and shortcuts to succeed and
disconnecting anyone who may create an obstacle in our regular lives.
we are cowards, ignoring responsibility to feel good for a day.
we are selfish; always receiving to benefit solely our wants and never returning the favor.
i have no future intent to touch constellations,
only to revoke my thoughts on giving up on humanity.