There are those people in your life
Those whose wings are getting fully exercised
Stretched out wide with the start of the day
A few feathers dropped by the end of it

Their eyes look out with a clear view of forward
Their ears receive without distorted dilution
Their mouths express with a founded opinion
And you know they are tired when they go to sleep

It's a day and age where our futures are uncertain
It's a time where perception is easier to distort than clarify
It's an age of morphing reality and multiplying divides
So them with their stretched out wings are easy to admire

Maybe your vision is idealistic
Maybe they have trouble too
Maybe they worked through what you're afraid of
But you can't help but feel a little left behind sometimes

You'll still pursue the unspoken and rarely admitted tactics
You'll still look around for the ground to begin planting
You'll still hold on to the beauteous aspects of your reflection
But I'll forgive you if you're still afraid of flying

Is it wrong to be preoccupied with 'What if?'
Electrons forming interpretations in tissue
Creative strives taken as eyes glaze away from what they see
The mind busy with images of preferable realities
"Sorry what was that?"

It's easy to be preoccupied I guess
Tobacco turning orange and grey and transparent
The nature around propelling hidden processes
But all the while I'm busy with what's what
and what could be

There's a man who speaks for me in these conscious dreams
He's got my face and he's got my name
But such a clean definitive tongue to touch ears with
Pity when the people are there to hear him
I bottle it

With all this preoccupation
The screens and spirits and unsolvable celluloids
I'm just going to try to settle down amongst wood and grass
Breathe deeply, think slowly, step safely
And see what happens

Sometimes I wonder
About all these screens
Reality captured and controlled
Designed and refined
Groomed to an idealistic state of too good to be true
Making it a bit too easy to day dream

Sometimes I wonder
About all those moments
Those times so clearly photographed
With a piercing sting behind the camera
Fantasy proposing the changes that can't be made
For those moments that you can't forget

Sometimes I wonder
About all I haven't seen
Billions upon billions of molecular possibilities
Shown through animals, forests, seas, circumstances
All going on beyond the length of my perceptions
Giving me a yearning for more than before

But...
Sometimes I know
Despite all the anxieties of self perception
The hindsight consumption pressuring pointlessly
And the necessary humility in a world that is small itself
That there's a lot I can do to find contentment in life
And plenty of time to do it

Look stranger.
I have been through more **** than an elephant's stable boy.
My **** stinks up rooms sometimes, and so many are polite to ignore the smell.
I appreciate that.
One time I ate the wrong stuff, and my **** got fired across a crowd, ruining everyone's night.
They hosed me down with diarrhoea, which I carry around too.
They had the right though. I don't blame them.
I went back to that place a year a later, and the **** smell came off me. They were really polite.
I appreciated that.
So stranger.
Please tell me if the **** I've been through gets spat on your plate.
Tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable with the smell.
And thank you for being polite.

It's late
So late our part of the world has turned it's back on the sun
Somewhere are the crickets, filling gently the air with shaken legs

Up here
A speechless pause towards the scope of a cityscape
As everyone... are they awake?

Share with me
A sky of dotted celestial potential
And fingers of yours between fingers of mine
As busy old home winds down its business

Share with me
What curiosities and stories you can tell
What you really like about what you really like
And what we should do tomorrow

I am curious, amongst this ocean of distortion, imagination, insecurity and cellular amazing
Where I belong

Accept a place as an animal amongst animals
Or as a son of a omnipotent father so I don't feel alone

Accept a black and white document of myself
Because the full colour painting won't sell

Accepting dreams as translucent
Because I'm so cowardly to what could be made real

As I filter the wild tornado's wreckage behind me
Into something that I can build again
The smallest scrap of paper reminds me why I bother
Two words in familiar handwriting
"Why not?"

I know my faults as something solvable
I know my perks as something valuable
And I know compassion that warms the soul

Forgive me though, my confused observer
My brother in the street who knows **** all behind my face
Forgive me as I do
Whatever this is
My way

So many of hours are compressed, drained, squeezed for all their worth
So many of our days are pressed into our skin with molten memory
So many of our years are defined by the effort, by the reward
And so it should be, such definition is gratifying

But forgive me, if forgiving is due, for valuing insignificance
For understanding a macro distinction of cells and stars and our place in between
For allowing time towards the subtle seconds of observation
And the day dream of depth that comes with it

When the leaf falls after such intense photosynthesis
When the river rushes with unfleeting certainty
When the bird calls out with definite culture
When the girl blushes with warm emotion

I hope I am around to see it