We are not born
to just

Eat

Work

Sleep

****

and die

Here's to the kids
getting high off music
and drunk off books

Sometimes, these good drugs
are the only things keeping
them alive.

My decisions
are always visceral.

***, love, don't eat meat.

Empathize until it hurts.

Go here, and there,
but stay home most of the time.

Feel feel feel.

It's all visceral.

I don't use my head
or even my heart,
I use my gut.

I grew with roots
planted firmly
inside my mother
and when those roots were ripped,
and I was pushed into this world
(unwillingly)

I screamed and cried

And every move since then,
every change,
every uprooting,
I've behaved the same.

If someone were to ask me
what my ideal world would be
I wouldn't be able to answer.

There are no words to describe
how the rain fell that night
the bitter sting of hail on bare skin
summer attire.

That moment
that memory
is what my ideal world would be.

The overwhelming sensations
the sting of the harsh wind
the fireworks exploding behind my eyes as our lips touched.