took myself out to dinner for a change and
i still didn’t know
just what to do with my hands.
alone i sat jittering
xanax dreams a faraway fantasy
the tears tested my eyes
but i blinked them away in frustration.
it’s hard to see clearly
through the fog-covered mire of distance…
jury’s still out on what went wrong.
hope-filled hallucinations
of well-meaning dreamers
extending extensively toward
your existential crisis;
outstretched arms and open pocketbooks
“it’s just money, this is someone’s life.”
my head cocked to the side remembering
or misremembering, a deluge of thoughts
filtering through the sewer systems,
stirring with bullshit and
excretions of this disgusting world.
how is one supposed to float
on a raft riddled with sweet apertures?
but indeed,
there are still words unspoken
and worlds undiscovered;
utterances left to be muttered
and heard and shared
information to be gleaned
terrain to explore and tunes
to dance in our heads
until the bittersweet notions of humanity
stop the swirling all together
and begin a new reverie
just beyond, but achievable — always.
sweet fingertips flirting
with decisions unmade
how utterly and unequivocally stunning
to have such a life ahead.
