To simplify,
To complicate,
These questions, on repeat,
In my questioning, confused head.

What do I want from this world,
Beyond simplification,
Yet a fraction of complication?
I’ll never know.

All I know, is that incarcerated birds,
still cheerfully chirp,
And nothing is ever what it seems,
Not even people.

I learned the hard way,
Achieving desires means,
Losing drive,
A sense of purpose,
And all fulfillment subsides.

Success is a state of mind,
Placement is what brings you peace,
So much to experience,
Yet so little focus.

At a certain point,
When getting old,
This contemplation follows,
And leaves me with nothing to show,
For all that I’ve experimented with—
Because staying put is too hard to bear.

~
Or migrated pod
       Or fleeing refugee
            Or corban
                  Or carbon dioxide
                       Or yubitsume
                            Or van Gogh's ear
                                 Or black Friday
                                      Or lazy evening at the carnival

                    (Tomorrow has already started)

Or free range
     Or gated community
          Or breast exam
               Or storage crisis
                    Or fallen leaves
                         Or germ warfare
                              Or temporary file
                                   Or permanent wave
                                        Or thigh gap
                                             Or physiognomy
                                                  Or soap made of heroes
                                                       Or multiplanetary living
                                                    
(There's a floating graveyard between this world and the next)

Or logical fallacy
     Or irrational number
          Or elementary analysis
               Or college guess
                    Or cardiopulmonary resuscitation
                         Or extrasensory perception
                              Or ten fingers and toes
                                   Or a dozen eggs

                  (They say there's strength in numbers)

Or fifth floor, corner room
     Or high as a kite
          Or bellwether
               Or mingled with bells
                    Or police sirens
                         Or loitering around in silent films
                              Or rule of thirds
                                   Or tombs of second-hand kings
                                        Or face in the rain
                                             Or pareidolia

(Otherwise, at first light you might be smiling...)
~

JANUARY ,I was ignorant and oblivious.
FEBRUARY came, and I sighed a breath of relief. Too confused, I made a wish. MARCH-ed with mixed feelings. I started seeing light in APRIL. I've finally found a resolution, I MAY just catwalk my way into JUNE and end my love lust. Then rekindle in JULY, a lust cost. I was not ready for what AUGUST had to say, for I staggered my way and landed facedown in SEPTEMBER hoping to feel brand new when the brisk rain fell in OCTOBER and I knew I exhausted all tears in Autumn and couldn't cry again. Yet I walk in the morning dew and light morning sun that says Winter is here and I'm sitting in NOVEMBER asking myself how 11 months has passed by. Yet, I remembered. DECEMBER is round the corner.

Sometimes
I give a hard look
At myself in the mirror,
My eyes gleaming with
Sadness that has followed
Me from down the road
And my hair all *******
So it doesn’t show how
Much it has grown

I tell myself
I want to be a poet,
Someone that writes
And moves and
Yell’s at you how gritty
Life has been lately.

But it hasn’t been all that gritty,
Or *****, or painful or-
Maybe it has.

Somewhere I read,
That a dead man
Loves the hardest,
That what only matters
Is how good you walk
Through the fire,
That let life not separate us,
And who cares about death?

I’ve come to hate and detest,
Those who hate,
But when will it be,
That I take upon
My shoulders to love.

And love is not
Like a gas stove,
But more of
A bonfire
That turns night
Into day.

So warm to the touch,
But so beautiful
To have when
It’s 1:00 am
On a cold front,
And god,
I just need
Another
cigarette.

Please,
Let me love
Again.

I’m begging.

Be it in death,
Or alive.

Be it awake
Or dreaming.

Be it through
the extinguished
Fire,
Which means
My walk hasn’t
been that great.

To the one,
That lights it
Again.

I am between
Dying and not dying.

I’m probably not
what you want.

Neither am I,
What you need.

But I will love,
The type of love
To move states,
To be alone
If it meant you
Would be coming
Through the door
Any minute now.

it will
Also be rumbling
And the ground will
Shake and
I won’t know how
To tell you how
Much I really love you.

But I will try,
I will try so hard.

To be all I am,
And all I am not.

the planets will align
every once in awhile
to arraign all who need
or are deserving of it
those who find themselves
treading the wrong path
those who can no longer
see what lies ahead
despite all those
gazing upwards
     silently questioning
these immaterial messages
will be overlooked
unheeded by the majority
only recognised by the few
comprehended by even fewer

this singular occurrence
rare and rarefied
may be explainable
in its most basic sense
logistically
     empirically
to even the layman
it is but a simple matter
of timings and orbits
calculations of gravity
versus mass and inertia
but that which truly matters
the universal push and pull
will leave even
the most discerning of minds
in the dark

Too much emotion
Too much time
For uninterested people
Too much feelings
Too much love
For an ungrateful person
The past will not come back
And you cannot force one's love
Is it about time,
To let go of the past?
How about this time,
We choose a different path?

The future eats me,


which I don't mind, as long as --



I feel the chewing.