the man who has to live with hindsight
had a steady-bad-habit diet that wore him to toothpicks
bore him like newsprint from vagrant palms
and if that's the inevitable for a man who knows,
I feel sorry for you.
but check this in
life is never about knowing
it's about learning
the difference between being and becoming
that thing you have where you can't understand how much what you are experiencing is affecting
stuck so curiously and firmly within the present
begging yourself to find a way to get away with anything else
how many times a day you lose yourself entirely in parked eyes at cross streets
lately it's been empathizing with trees
notice the difference between a swimmer and his water was never such a distance?
dark hair sits down next to me on the train
the entire time their arm brushes mine
and knowing I don't even need to see their face to feel something other than just alive
attempting desperately to connect with any single thing to validate my own reality
this morning I nearly drown in tunnel-vision buildings
I suppose I can walk back with my eyes closed,
but bury my head in a hole from my heart to china, on my own?
I don't know.
