What you feed
So is the seat

The past circumvents the future simply because the past is again, simply trying to catch up with the future. Only because the future goes beyond the past’s own horizon (which is obvious to say the least)… …But nonetheless, has a greater beneficial outcome to sort out an input’s (“oneselves”) future events when the “past scheming scenarios” comes back and either “hit’s you” when you need it MOST, or calmly assorts the different factors into something you were NEVER aware of…until it was already too late to bear yourself suitable against!

Possible titles:
happenstance
storm colors
Concrete chameleon

Original:

I watched the sidewalk
Go from light to spotted grey
Sudden rain shower.

A different version:

Watching the sidewalk
grey spots growing together
Stone chameleon.

What good is it to want things.
So much longing.
So little input.

What is maintenance? My life has to be cold,
planned, full of calculation. Otherwise, what?
Otherwise, I'll be old at thirty-five, bold, but too close

to a tragic slip, toes in the grass by open graves,
when peers gather, grow on pavement past the gates.
My life has to be cold, planned, full of calculation.

Otherwise, the most vital, underlying systems
yell in warning lights, compromised. You may
not think it problematic, but I can't interpret
signs of my demise already six feet down,

now can I? That's why I (we): clean, sort,
scrub, update outdated thoughts, as if
otherwise, I (we) cut the years I'll (we'll)
survive.

Open my chest for me, you,
lovely human you. Your
scent rises through the rain.
Could I live the way you live,
I would. But I can't, and I know that.
So let me react to your input,

open my chest for me
open my chest for me

open my chest for me
open me