Rope thrown
At a new found home.

House of horrors?
Or sanctuary?
A locale of fear
Or place to thrive?

Throw the dice...
No way to know
For total certain
(Despite an abundance of advice)
If this be the final destination
Your vision comes alive.

Even if it shall not be
There’s much learned
From each opportunity.
Even if your vision
Doesn’t come to pass
Take it with grace
If you still believe save face
As it doesn’t mean you’re wrong.

You just need the next opportunity to come along.
October 27 2018:
Some rando dude at Target
Without a second thought to whatever it might mean...
Innocently(?) launches a simple rando kindness -
at crazy frickin me.

“You are so beautiful”
Quickly devolves in my mind into
“You check the locks each night, don’t you?”
You are 42!
There is no earthly way
Sincerity could be at play;
Clearly there has been a mistake
For goodness’ sake..
Doesn’t he see the tired eyes;
Weariness not disguised?
Or in tow the five year old
Rejecting every wisdom ever sold?

(Or secretly; hopefully..)
Did he magically see past the caul -
Does my unbroken spirit continue to shine through it all?

Or maybe I should fall back on simplicity?
Is that so witty?
Is it possible that despite age and worldliness
I might still be kind of pretty?

What does it say about this world
That my gut reaction is to suspect
And reject
An unexpected kindness hurled?
True story.
Despite the bigger picture’s fate
It’s endless fun to just - create.
No matter if it’s prose or code
Or the world about you ready to explode
To make your production from not a thing emerge
Can only make one’s spirits surge.

Remember the childish wonders set free
In giving into your every curiosity.
And the passion that not a soul can fake
About the things you did proudly make!
I think I like writing code as a result of liking writing in general.  There is so much possibility in both.
Would every frustration
Cease to exist
If I were
Ten pounds thinner?

Or might I
Be more equipped
to assist
If i just ate some freaking dinner?

Oh ‘my fitness pal’
I’m onto you now.
You aren’t my friend I guess
If you just cause me to obsess
Over every step and calorie
And of every single setback...
you must remind me constantly.

Remind me there’s way more to it all
Than being super thin
And that being healthy truly is
The only way to win.
I have been on the front lines of a ****** lifelong war with food and logic.  This is a real thing even though it seems silly to people who don’t experience it.  Figuring out how much you have to excercise to work off a snickers is most definitely a thing.  If you get this, it’s worth it to eat and eat smartly.  It will help you think more rationally.
So I slacked off today.

What can I say?

Why must you harrass me when I fail
Or on semiformed plans I tend to bail?
Your ******* mundane pointless metrics!
You throw your mud and see what sticks.

When the goals I set I start to botch -
You always catch me - Apple Watch.  
So who is to blame
For the guilt?
I told you what to do
But you’ve built
Too soul *******
And mind f*cking
To achieve.

Shouldn’t you rein me in
When you start seeing
What must be for sure
Too **** much pressure?

Or is AI simply an extension of
Models based on the perception of
Achieving true love
Overly optimistic

I find it amusing and irritating when my watch or phone yells at me for not reaching 10000 steps a day.  Yet I actually programmed it to yell at me.  Ironic?  Or should the data help me figure out what is realistic?  The AI assisted  world is going to be confusing!
To think all these rhymes
In my noggin once were trapped
Like presents unwrapped
Thoughts not fully formed..

What else might there be
If I were set free
To write with all my might?

Or would that freedom
Mean I lose my muse
And my will to shout?

Would I become a sell-out?
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