When faced with the kin of existance turning to me and asking for more when I'm staring down a wall of self-destruction
I falter
I fail
I fall back into the murky past of suckling on my pain and feeding it's worrisome jaunting, it's callous remerks and the uneasy , unquenchable desire for everything to turn around and be just like how it was not , back in some distant moment , back in some dim memory of success of pain or failure.

When faced with the kin of existance turning to me and asking for more
I know i need a rest for just a moment but that moment is not worth it
it is a festering
When faced with the kin of existance turning to me and asking for more
I turn to them and say here it is
here I am
here are my mistakes and my furrowed brows
here is my vulnrable strength
how can I give of that ?
I breathe in deep and relinquish the need to know, the need to be right and I recognize, here in this moment is a greatness , a quality and a strength -
we are alive and it will be aliveness until it's not
it will be aliveness until it's not
and that relentless living will turn and turn and turn as this planet does
as these movements do
and I will also.
This is one of those things that I can't change -

One of those things that I must embrace
One of those things that will make me less crude, softer , wiser , gifted with visions of no more or no less,
recognizing the quagmires

Bananas
are such
sweet pieces
of fruit.
They are lean
and bend
to the weather.
But too soon, they wither
away.
Brown spots
upon their skin
soon turn
into dark spots
inside their vulnrable flesh.

I prefer
to be
an apple.
Round and shiny,
crunchy skin,
and sometimes sour.
But robust
and resistant
to rain.
Brown spots,
after a fall,
are simply
cut out
of their juicy, fresh flesh.