i dream of the day
where i’ll be able to say
i know how to enjoy
Free Time, Me Time, Time
Alone with no crimes,
instead of yearning for
hours at a job i deplore
because i can’t bear myself
anymore

I’ve always been drawn
To the artists,
The new greats,
The aesthetes,
The painters,
The writers and the
Ones who dress
Like they’re out of
A low budget
Film from the 90s -
Chic, noir, vintage,
And just so strikingly
Unique. But I am not
Like them, and they
Do not like me - I
Am weird and aloof,
Sloppy and silly,
Withdrawn and witty,
Sporadic in art and
Thought. A nomad
Of culture and crowds,
Too deviant for them:
Au revoir.

Who am I?

I'm nobody special.

I drive the streets and give rides to strangers.
I stare at the night sky waiting for something amazing to happen.
I talk to God like how one talks to one's self.
I kiss my kids good night or goodbye as if it's my last.
I am waiting to die or for the coming of the holy king to establish his kingdom.
I could come across as dull or perhaps gloomy.

I adapt, but no longer...
For it does not what I do because I prefer to be nobody, because I am letting go!

Enoch walked with the Lord and was no more...
So to I shall be!

Time is,
When a child,
Like honey,
When grown,
Like a drying lake.

It's warm as I settle in.
My heart picks up speed,
We race in the thrusting motions,
Then calmly settle when I am in between you.

'If only' rules my life.
If I would only be more responsible...
If only I would be more daring...

If only...
If only...
If only...
If only...
If only!

If only I'd rid myself of these and just venture onward!
If only...
I would not be stagnant!

*If only!

I am lost again.

Truly!

I have been here before,
Therefore I must be going in a circle!

Then I said, "Go forth!"
Only to stay.

Once more I say, "Go forth!"
Again, only to stay.

Fear.
It keeps me stagnant.
There is no growth,
Much less development.

My voice presents me as a pacifist,
But my heart is a fury!

I am but one of many lost,
In need of saving,
One who requires guidance, instructions, indications...
Perhaps a sort of map if you will.

The Stars point me to the North,
But my dazed and confused heart says, "Stay right where you are"
And a voice within that seems to say, "For you are not lost, but only walking blindly."

Lie there,
On the blanket,
On the grass.

Watch the leaf,
Hanging by a thread,
Glide down gradually.

See the clouds,
They intertwine,
Seemingly to kiss.

The butterfly will do just that...
Fly.
And the hummingbird,
It's wings hum.

This may seem cheesy,
And perhaps all too cliche,
But I swear to you...no photo will do this justice.

One must lie there,
In peace,
Without a phone, care, or worry.

I am not here.
I do not exist.

Before I proceed,
I must apologize,
For I have made this about me,
But...
It is all I know at the moment.

They will not hire me,
Neither will they accept the line I have thrown.
They will not inquire to find out what I could offer.

This is not a complaint.
I am merely stating what is obvious...to me!

Talent, language, and skill,
These are insufficient!
Might as well do away with me.
Just be rid of the unnecessary,
And all will be just peachy.

I am not here.
I do not exist.

Glorious morning dew...
On each leaf of grass,
On each leaf of the trees,
Covering the window shields,

But...

If only I can **** the undying noise;
The mowers near and far,
The mechanical birds overhead,
The storming of vehicles on the highways.

Still...

What glorious morning dew!