Reflection.
Awareness.
How am I
still walking
still breathing
despite
carcinogenic
thoughts & feelings?
Reflection.
Ascension.
How am I
still drinking
still eating
despite
reverberation
in the earth's stomach?
Feeding myself to feed you.

Feeding myself to feed you.

. . .

Wet fingertip offered to the wind itself,
summon me personal heaven,
please, summon me
personal heaven.

Flat foot big toe tapping out the pulse
of the bare ground on concrete,
asking heaven of
the soil. Pleading.

Feeding myself to feed you.
Happily happening,
as but a terrible chance.

Happily happening.

I don't feel the want, to talk too much
her touch and eyes say more
every stroke, tender kiss
reaches, to my core

A subtle caress of motion
an embrace of words, pure art
statuary built from scratch
moving in my mind, and heart

So don't stop, or pause
on the path, of silent need
hand in hand, we'll wander on
and on each other, feed

I sit on her couch
Sipping *****
from some mixed concoction
Scrolling through the social media experiences
meant to be a self reassurance
of how good we have it
when it’s just so
******* hard.

These little positives accumulated
to remind myself
that even in the midst of my hardest trials,
don't get caught in the failures
but relish in the triumphs.

I don’t even look at the other feeds
so self absorbed
at reminding myself
that each day my hustle
will be rewarded with the ultimate win: love.
But success isn’t love... or a like
and every minute I spend self absorbed on what I don’t have
I miss out
on the minute to minute love
I receive with each interaction
from people I share space with.
Life isn’t a feed.
Life isn’t happiness every day.
Life isn’t measured by the have or have nots.
Life is this moment.
Life is this experience
and the decisions we make in them.

So I closed the phone
and listened
to her
sing.

She wasn’t doing it for the hashtag
or the like
and I listened.

Sipping on my *****,
closing my eyes.
I didn’t care what was seen
as long as she kept sharing
this moment with me.

The feed.

Ringing
Burst of nothingness
Fallen into mind
They scream
They bleat
Falling silently
Nothing to fleat
The flies swarm
They fleat
The tombs hide
Continue to eat
Gasp and cry
Buried inside
Beneith

my violent ideations
quell at the presence of
you only

as you lean in for a kiss
i find myself again
in some analeptic bliss

my mind is subdued by
only you

but you stepped out from
my dreams and now
you haunt reality

and this love is just an addiction
that i can't help but feed.

seek and seed your mind
probe for truth to feed your soul
help you learn and grow

Fathercraft
has been passed down
from father to father
losing and gaining
at each slow bequeathing -
less heavy-handed there
more soft-hearted here
as each generation rejects
the disciplines of the past.
So much so that I wonder
what's left of the original art
and what we've lost.

This is my food for thought
as I feed my daughter -
crumbled digestive
with mashed banana -
perhaps a favourite of mine
and my father's,
while she grins and chortles
blowing biscuit dust
and spittle bubbles
with absolute child-delight.

Food for thought
as I drink in her smile,
wipe my cheek
and laugh along,
prolonging the rare perfection
of this father moment.

Giannis Antetokounmpo
Drinks Ouzo
In his Greek Freak
Pumpkin Spiced Latte

The grande size is
$5.25 USD
Salary of Giannis Antetokounmpo
$24.16 million USD Per year

One USD per meal (Meal Math)
$24.16 million USD feeds
1,655 families of four
per year

GO BUCKS GO!