I am Dagogo Michael Dagogo Hart

Son of a man

Great to some small to some

I am a man, with an hour glass for a heart and a ticking time bomb for a mind.

And lately I’ve been struggling with the words

How can I explain happiness and sadness at the same time

that my mind is both at peace and at war.

But I know I can count on french fries and pancakes to catch me when gravity fails

I know I can count on my hourglass to always fall side ways to buy me more time.

And I know I can trust my ticking time bomb to keep ticking and even when it blows up, to leave shrapnel in the basement of the earth so the world would always remember me.

This year, breath is currency, and I’m not as rich as I used to be.

I have a closet full of more cheap thrills than skeletons and I wonder if Heaven takes refunds.

My souls shadow keeps dragging me into these nightmares where the moon stops following me, there’s a trail of honey and shackles and a cemetery of others that tried before me but there’s one more breadcrumb in my compass, there’s one more feather in my ankle and home is a paper cup and cotton string away.

So I’m building a bridge of hope and doubt, praying the shoes I’m trying fill are large enough to fill the spaces.