Thoughts on July 25, 12:08 am

the cosmic joke is that we all live in fear of one another, and that we spend all our time energy efforts in protecting ourselves from the so-called dangerous others who pass us moment by moment. Ha. its ridiculous and yet i do fear you, and you, and you. you could snap in a moment, you could strike like a serpent, you could cut me down in one short stab. i could humiliate myself beyond repair, beyond recognition, and you could see it, remember it, remind me or someone else. what would happen if i just said exactly what was on my mind and fuck all the rest and your feelings and your mother and all your bullshit luggage too. i could just say it straight whatever straight looks like to me. and i would be free and nothing would sit collect dust or pools of sweat and tears. it would all be out there in the universe and out of my hands. and would you hurt me or would i be okay, uninjured, unscarred, unfiltered. or would i be an empty ewer that dumped out all my juice without any concern who got it or who didn't. would i be more empty or more full. would i just be an asshole, or would i be honest and brave. would i eat crow later. would i be alone, deserted, unloveable. why is this all so scary. shouldn't being alive be easier than this. our one main job in this life is to stay alive. as long as we are alive shouldn't we feel successful and satisfied. why do i keep looking for meaning when i know that i create it. you are not scary and i am a meaning making machine. thats it. so when do i actually start writing my own script rather than reading others, sifting pieces out for my own story.

Set sail, little boats

Arrived

i walk into the institution

mugshot clipped, dangling from my shirt

"i belong here now"

no one questions anymore

i walk straight, past one elevator and

older men wheeling back and forth

waiting impatiently, I ride up

the doors open and I enter my new home

a special home for special people

so many keys for doors and drawers

keep them with me for no one answers but me

i am on my own now

rolling my cart like a new driver

i enter my first room, a symphony of sound

pumping, beeping, coughing, gurgling

the t.v. tunneling in the outside world

a reminder of normal lives and not-so-special people

its silence uncomfortable as I set up my music

caricatures of children I would imagine

aliens, creatures of the forest or space or water

i dont know, but i know they are alive

at home, splayed across my bed

i watched my cat play with her purple octopus

split open, jingle-less, irresistible

i speak to her sincerely

can she possibly understand a word, a tone?

she flicks her tail, i think yes

i shudder at the thought

of comparing a furry grey cat to a silenced child

i am too white for my own good

but i find sense and comfort

i love my cat and i know she loves me

i know she feels safe at home

we do not speak the same

but i know something passes through, both

we are alive and connected

in this thought, i find a way in

to see this group of beings, sentient, sensational

striving to reach out

i don't know what i am doing

bubbles and touch and forced brushes

music and one-sided narration

this is my offering, half baked

but i can say, i am here, and i will come back

you exist for me

you are alive, and for that, i am here

i belong here as you do

in our own roles, but dependent

needing both to make this home work

i don't know the meaning, nor a destination

but i am letting both sail like paper boats

what does it matter for whom and why

just being alive is enough of a reason.

Tethered to the pole and coming back again

The thing called Hope

It is the thing with feathers

it floats, it has wings, it is life

it holds up the world, never abandoning

Dum spiro spero, words written on my crest

for to lose hope, i hear, is to lose it all, to burn out

it lights the way, a glowing torch in the night, a halo

hope however begets disappointment

it is fanciful, naive, heartened, and unfulfilled

"Minds that are ill at ease are agitated by both hope and fear"

I breath as I hope, but hold it in, waiting

Should my hope not float up, fly off, shining

I will be lost, beseeching it's hummingbird wings up again

Hope is infinite, intricate, intangible

It is a small tug at the edge of your sleeve

It whispers in your ear, tail wrapped around you, hugging

It tells you of tomorrow, and the next day too

It warns you of unsteady currents and tropical storms

It tells you to hold on, even on the darkest, starless eve

Hope is a tease, a temptress, a siren overboard

It beckons you, deceiving and flawless, young and pure

Like chasing a rainbow, perfection and endless and ungraspable.

Hot and heavy and still going

Holding out

losing limbs

broken intactness, unintact

untacked, tactless, tacit

swimming through sand

grit in teeth, sinking faster than forward

hot, sucking moisture out

mask unhinged

ceramic cracking, peeling up

underneath just shadow

flopping on shore

glistening grey and rainbow

gasping in slivers

stop or go

when to hold out for better

or just ride the wind

unyielding momentum

do not let go for a moment

this is it.

I think I have been here before

A lake in the park, in the woods, in the world

a smooth lake marked by small slits of red

fish swimming up to the surface, rippling out

a calm punctuated by their lapping

curious reminders of them below the surface

the ripples soften, the reflection of the sky and clouds steadies straight

a picturesque image of the lake returns for a moment of unquestioning

About as much sense as it all makes

Watercolor and ink on paper

5 x 4 1/2 inch, 3 3/4 x 2 1/2 inch, 3 x 2 inch panels