I'll work
until I'm no longer able
walk
until I'm no longer able
Speak this written language I've come to trust more than memory.
keep secrets I've long forgotten, including my own.
and mama, I've got so many.
make mountains out of mohills,
see I already know balance doesn't exist -
and how irrational it is to search for it.
--I stay up late, later than what you think late is,
later than that, motherfucker.
next day carry out the impossible,
surviving on just caffeine and sugary treats.
blame my headache on the drop in barometric pressure
I tell people when they ask, I'm delicate like that.
except that I'm not.
All I really ever aim for is freedom, to be set free.
from my first breath, I've only belonged to myself....
until my last, I'll only belong to you..
until then, expect this:
snickering
toile
crying hard
misbehaving
smoking
planning
dreaming
watching trees
missing the ocean
misreading gestures,
until I'm no longer able.
with most my life behind,
mulled over.
but this year,
this age,
this time,
is not yet the time.
each day I see this guy - on my way home from work. he's this odd young man, he wears a wife-beater, long shorts, bandana, but that's not the odd thing. . . . he dons a yellow snake with faint brownish spots around his neck. a fat snake, really long too. in his right hand, a leash, attached to a pit bull. they all seem to froth at the mouth. today he looked me right in the eye, even though I'm in my car making a right hand turn as speedy as possible. and I what I want is to get rid of that image. odd huh.
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