#weedspositivelifetunnels
He wasn’t a flower
they were too exquisite. (although he wanted to be, so he could make people sneeze)
He wasn’t a cypress
they were too resilient. (otherwise he would have cracked the concrete)
He was born a ****
(A yard reckoning wild black mamba)
In the ground, he felt smothered,
digging to a world he never knew.
He was an anomaly
someone who no one desired to water.
He was a problem,
a pest,
something like
Fruit flies in a Florida summer
He was a stain,
a blood smear on an angel white Kleenex.
He was a pain,
a sturdy lump in her kidney the doctor had to explain.
He dug through boggy dirt,
carving away.
He dug through swampy mud
while the sky hiccupped tears,
constantly, continuously making
a path that he could climb.
He wanted—freedom
a love amongst the elegant lantana.
Jul 9, 2019
Jul 9, 2019 at 4:50 PM UTC