thrashing through three predictions
dont let it kill you, you know the suspicion
yesterday I remembered it all, when I was sitting alone drinking half fake orange juice in the kitchen
funny I even began to listen
pausing the old tracks on a cassette player I borrowed from 1973
I warned you never to listen to me
my advice is good
the sky really is beautiful outside today
you know its good when you hear those poor kids laughing in such a light hearted way
remember that line from mr.jones were he says he wants to paint himself blue red black and gray
I picture myself painting the world like that over looking the ocean next to the cherry blossoms on that old bay
when we meet I would like to ask you over a million questions If I may
but then I will realize that I will never do that
cause that just not me
I dont like asking too many questions personally
We live in a generation where being alike is expected
Where following each others ways and believing each other's God is assumed
Our generation raises us to be perfect people
too bad perfect people don't exist
They raise us to be intelligent and successful
Beautiful and polite
Straight and homophobic
Skinny and athletic
Good with words but never to speak
They raise us with the aspiration of perfection
This generation is so narrow minded and scared of people being themselves
They are scared of being unique
They are scared of letting people live their own lives
They are scared to accept others for who they are
Many fall under the influence of this generation, but I will never
I will be unique
I will never be perfect
I will never be like someone else until the day
all of our fingerprints are the same
Quick little pinprick
barely breaking the skin
small welter of blood
filling in fingerprints.
Once a past shared
fleeting moments among years
erased in lieu of bigger smiles,
more pleasant portraits.
Just a quick little prick
reminding me, despite a
decade of turning away
that once, I faced the flash too.
that nothing you do is of much significance,
there's nothing you'll do that is of much importance,
but the small impact you make,
you have to do.
That your finger prints are permanent,
on someones life when you grab hold.
no matter how meek,
you leave your mark on their crime scene.
that love conquers all.
Your knight in shining armor will save you.
A young little pretty woman will love you for you and nurture you,
until together you die,
on a warm day in bed together,
to continue your lives in eternity, in blissful peace.
They never say the truth.
The story of how we just so happen to be here.
How the only difference betwixt us and an animal is that we escaped natures food chain,
and have made our own controlled by pieces of paper and fat pigs congratulating eachother over brandy and illegal drugs on wall street feeding on our developed Darwinist society.
They never say
How no matter what you'll do your efforts are deleted months after your enviable death.
Self inflected or other wise.
So why do we value our fingerprint lives so dearly?
Your body is not a language
But I know it by touch
I’d know you blind and deaf
The whorls of your fingerprints
Are as familiar to me as my own
Sometimes I don’t know
Which is which
I find myself getting our
Bodies confused and tangled
Forgetting where your skin ends
And my own begins
Even when we are apart.
Am I another person
Would we really want to be
So separate that
Our skin becomes our own?
This is the pattern I see behind
and when I look at a leaf
or perhaps just the ocean from afar
It's in my reflection, looking up at me from
the rippling water
It's in the veins of my hands, which I
don't know so well
It changes like the moon day by day,
but the cycle repeats.
It's a song; music; perfect
It's in my head, clear like bells, and
then I'll lose it in a moment.
I can follow it but never recreate it.
It's everywhere. It's the taste I feel in my pores.
Sometimes I'm lost or afraid and I think
I forget it's there.
I lose the pattern; I close my eyes and
This is you, and the pattern in your eyes,
and the energy in your gaze,
connecting me to the world.
There's a song in my head again, clear like bells,
like music; perfect
found in a moment, in a gaze, in a touch,
in a smile, in everything
I remember it's okay.