-yesterday's walk

I lay prostrate in the dust and the glamor
waiting for rapture
in the botany where
a leaf disturbed,
draped itself across
cold wet shoulders, sticky ones at that
reminded me about early morning cocaine mindsets
can't escape the rawness of it all, at all
I'd much rather dig a hole and talk about
how I'd let that blood dry if I were you
and how all the lights, I'd sleep with the lights on
and how the light is you, and
fluorescent smile calm
me down,
you didn't know that-

-on a bright warm day I

on spring days I disintegrate
all of the poignancy that I cannot bear to hold
memories of, memories from
games consummated, accelerating towards
the conclusion days of my childhood
crooking my head downwards and spin and spin and spin and spin and run clumsily
drop the bat
and spin
with all my joy as fast as
I can
clumsily running to god knows where
I don't know, I did care
it had to suffice

-can't you just sit a while? and try your hardest to smile.

Nostalgia is about the fleeting moments in our life. A throwback to when times were easier, play was innocent; when light actually illuminated all of the room. We hold these memories in high regard, we try our hardest to not let those moments slip away. Eventually, all that is left is a warm distant haze that leaves you wondering if it all really happened. It's like how Haruki Murakami wrote, ""Memories are what warm you up from the inside. But they're also what tear you apart." I can't escape the feeling that up until the present moment, everything that's transpired over the course of many years occured while I was in a stupor. Even the present moment is deceiving. The present moment offers feelings of clarity that are dulled the very next moment. The next day it is realized that you weren't very much lucid at all in being, that in fact you are very much blinded by prejudices and emotion. The feeling of not ever being fully conscious while living in the moment accompanies me on a daily basis. Monks have long understood that meditating allows them to reduce the toll that time takes on humans. I yearn to be lucid as they are, to see things as they really happened. The past belongs in the past, it would be wrong to wish for it to be any other way. Yet I wonder, is there any way I can bring the past with me and embody it instead of looking wistfully back at it? I don't want to spend life longing for my childhood. I want to be that child, scampering through the bushes, trying desperately to fly my pale-yellow cheap paper kite, bubbling with vitality. I want to be that child at eighty. Feeling nostalgic?

-we ride the short bus to oblivion.

You are all at fault. Every single last one of you. Here I am writing a lettter to the past generation, but so what? What they did was unforgivable, a mockery of the human spirit. They made us ashamed to be who we are; seeking truth became an ostracisable offense. At the moment of existence one enters an agreement with God, Mother Nature, Science; what have you. Inevitably, we renege on this contract, but theres always Hell to pay. We are left in the dark, fumbling, trying to connect hands. We are left collecting flowers in a graveyard. We are left. Innocently enough, we believed that we were bettering as a collective whole. We weren't bettering. Inconceivable, tell it to the streets that we were bettering as a human race. You'd get laughed at right in your face. No, what we were doing was evolving. I can't wait until we reach the pinnacle of evolution. From there it's all downhill, tumbling, bumbling idiots.

nx slxxp

For too long now have I been sleeping my life away. A warm lethargy has taken hold of all areas of my waking life. Apathetic indifference stole its way into my demeanor. I've traded in the hours of sunlight for the obscure hours of night for months on end. Daily schooling that is forced upon me leaves me too tired to learn what I need to learn, to tired to understand what I need to make me happy. Everybody is subject to this torment. Everybody I know is confused. The way a person reacts to this setup is sometimes different; I've seen no good come of this defense mechanism. Indifference is a common reaction. The world goes on, but I come home, and go to sleep. Forget about what I could be experiencing outside, I can fast forward to the night, where not a soul is stirring and thinking is possible in absentia of stimuli. That is what soothes and regenerates the soul. A steady city clamor lays in unhealthy contrast. To be in existence, is to be unhealthy no matter which way you put it. Self preservation is impossible  no doubt, so we need to make the most out of each conscious moment. Lethargy smothers motivation and drive and fatally lessens the person who we are meant to be. Here I am offered the only feasible option: keep those eyes open, take all of it in, don't let any of it out.