seeking peace
longing to recognize myself
as whole
tiring of insanity
bouncing from issue
to conflict
pretending to be self-assured
while nervous about the unknown
the cold facts
are I am a mess
humanity flailing
in one small body –
the dust of my bones
longs to return to the ground
to feel only the breeze and the rain
washing over me
endlessly
the birds on wing
the low hum of an electric world
the faint smell of combustion engines….
it is only the fresh spring grass
and blooming Crocuses
that I desire to commune with
this old soul needs a break –
even while writing
I feel my neck hairs stand up
my cackle rising
blood becomes heated
as I am not a quitter
and do not live a life of giving up….
I just can’t understand
why I must struggle so
why the oil of my back
no longer works as if I were a duck
allowing this to fall away
and mean nothing
…………..
turns out,
as a grown man
I care……
but I wish sometimes I didn’t –