Behind me, awaits a bustling bizarre
Before me, awaits a marvelous meadow,
What to do...

“I want to change the world” you say,
So does everyone else,
What you should say is



I


want to change
the
way
the world
looks at me.”

I woke up at a quarter to 10,
my hand was still sleeping,
dreaming of a million,
cold needles prickling away at it.

So I wrote this with my left.

photos freeze an instance
never again will any be the same
something will be different
the footsteps in wet sand on a beach
will wash away, but in a photo, they
remain impressed forever

life is a photo, you only have
one perfect shot, one perfect
frame, one perfect instance

a perfect moment that defines
all other instances
an instance that
all other moments are judged by
a moment that
all other instances exist for
an existence for only that
one moment that causes purpose

you’re the instance that other moments
live for in my photo… where are you?