we talked about the weather

The forecast is a scattered mess,
and the Cleveland skies are bitter.
I flip the coins held in my hand,
still jet-lagging,
to look for a familiar face.

A weighted series of facts
don’t sum up to what’s deserved.
I blink to clear my murky vision,
but the faces staring past
are still too bleakly blurred.

I took the first extended hand,
and I gripped it far too tightly.
I thought there’d be a shutter
before the final gasp of air.

Compared to what I’m standing for
where I’m sitting’s all the ways away,
and I’m thinking flutter-thoughts of what
I’ll never catch my breath to say.

But I’ve said it all
I’ve said too much
I’ve negotiated with no one
for nothing in particular,
as a heavy-handed optimist
is unwatching hardly waiting
for another steep decline
internally conflicted
by the existential crisis
of learning how
to gratefully complain

No optimists in present tense
just pairs of eyes turned to the ground
My eyes are down and the sky is blue
and there are footsteps stomping overhead.

But I wouldn’t won’t can’t tell them
what choice they ought to instead choose.
Bring marshmallows and your popping corn
We fight fear and hate with firewood.

I want to live a billion years
but I only get a few.
I want to learn a thousands ways
to do what I will never do.
I want to stand my ground and
walk a mile in your shoes.
I want to forget far away and
remember the untruth.

I want what I will never have:
I want the right to choose
from options carefully curated
by those who know
someone always has to lose.

fresh starts

I woke up this morning with a more positive outlook than the one I took to bed with me, and I think I have all that I need. I am going to make some tea and I am going to get a little high and I am going to be 25 and I will not die soon. I woke up this morning to a kitten’s meow directed at a chirping tree and a breeze too chilly for August to remind me that this summer is passing too. I am inspired by my own personal eclipse. I am inspired by time as it is passing: too slowly and all at once. I am inspired by myself as I move on – as I take small steps like leaps and bounds and construct a plan from my last one’s dust. I am a stereotype for myself.

I woke up this morning, and I am ready to move forward. I am growing bolder, and I am ready to let go. I am sitting in a room I am sitting at a desk I am writing – no – I am typing. Typing like I live my life: with a general direction, but as I go. I hit the keys I tap tap tap I forget how to form my letters by hand. I pause. I remember how my mother taught me. I remember when I learned it all. I hit resume. I feel the familiar feeling of marks on ‘f’ and ‘j’ that tell my fingers where they are that help me place my hands – where they dance over words already forming in my head on my tongue – no – on the tips of my fingers, like the backs of my hands. Not known well enough, not well examined. I’ll never know it all. 

I woke up this morning and I went back to work, and I thought about the things I am grateful for. I thought about how I am grateful for the things I have, but too often find myself waiting for too much more. I woke up this morning tired of waiting, and ready to take too much more. Maybe nothing more, but a different current happenstance: I am aiming for direct exchange I am aiming for renewed wide eyes focused on another fresh start. Every time I open my mouth, I am scared I will complain. Every time I open my eyes, I see I have enough, I see I have today.

balancing act

Good news is no news at all: it’s quite a tragedy. Happiness is thought a right deserved, not something free to pursue, and not something that exists independently of other people’s points of view. If you polled a billion people, in aggregate: a stable state. But individual’s individualism fills headspace with malformed omnipresent mass-deafening complaint. 

Happiness is an ideal told to children, and it is nothing to hold onto, but rather something to personally strive for when circumstance permits. Happiness is with counterbalance, save for in poorly-written stories of some individual’s utopic twist. The stability found in nature is a fundamental balance of positive and negative; it is light and dark, and it is black and white, but it is not cut and dry: we have too many equations and not enough constants for one solution alone to, in and of itself, satisfy.  

The stability found in nature is a lesson in taking the good with the bad as they exist because they both exist, simultaneously. It is a lesson in why it is the ground on which we all stand. It is fundamental. But it could also be a lesson in division and in how to stand divided and in how to pick a side and to put yourself on one too. Remember how leverage works before standing too close to an edge. Remember that fractions are parts of one whole. Remember, always remember, what it is you know. 

Think about the counter-intuition of existing on opposing sides of the same perceived problems. Think about being given different directions on how to satisfy your same drives. Think about the guidelines: pursue happiness although it is not explicitly given, raise your hand when you need to speak, and inhale when you require oxygen to continue to breathe. Think about having individual instructions for an assignment and being graded, alongside others with the similarly individual instructions, according to the same rubric.

We know everything. We have all of the information. We have forgotten. We have different instructions for the same assignment, which is to live just one life and to pursue the minimization of its frustrations. The unintended interpretation: to judge others as you, yourself, would not want to be judged. Knee-jerk reactions, in their numbing half-aggregate, are waiting for the opposition to be forced to budge.

We are not going anywhere. There are no sides, just balance. We are not going anywhere: we are waiting. Waiting for a shift in abstract tectonic plates to push and to shove and to force a newer brighter shinier steady-state. But newer isn’t always better. Recenter your gaze: focus, and remember, always remember, what it is you know.  

The sky above is blue beyond the fog, and the grass is always green, at least from where I am still standing: on the ground.

the fluid dynamics of language

Last text message stamps that turn from time to day to date watching fiction fabricate where love profession became kiss-sealed fate. Determining if terminal velocity has been accelerated passed at a change in change in distance greater than gravity while existing unknowing with respect to and with no respect for

space. A little bit too tipsy to the point of topsy turning. A little bit too little: a tiny chunk: a minuscule nibble. A finger in to test the waters, the temperature of misplaced tea. The temperature of a tepid day with higher than bearable levels of humidity for individual hairs to stay put in organized chaos. Chaos so chaotic it can only be described by a law, the second one, it’s fundamental thermodynamic the heating the cooling trying to contain to construct to solidify the abstract into the concrete so concrete so rigid so indifferent unemotional.

why i don’t participate in politics

This world is not a dystopia: it is a constant plus or minus variation on the ever-changing landscape of time, made up of individuals exchanging the highs and lows of tiny experiences, all subjectively placed on a spectrum ranging from good to bad and probably reaching far better and worse than those.  This world is not a dystopia, but there are a lot of things wrong in the world if wrongness is determined by at least one person believing that a change could cause an improvement in their life or the lives of others (either present or future or both).  There are a lot of things wrong in the world, but it seems that this wrongness stems from differing opinions on what would constitute an improvement in the current state of existence, and what would constitute a degradation.

There are a lot of things wrong in the world, but I don’t think they all have to be fixed with some blanket solution that appeases everyone, because such a solution is an attempt to achieve an unreachable goal, and such movements towards that solution produce smaller and smaller ever-exponentially decaying returns on investment to an asymptote of maximum overall utopic appeasement that both cannot be reached and should not reasonably be strived for, for to strive for maximum appeasement is to reduce the importance of gratitude when good enough should be good enough because it is enough and contention towards contentment is a fight for fighters who say they want peace but won’t give into peace because peace doesn’t force the equality that satiates the whims and needs of all individual indulgences in a consumeristic society. Isn’t a good deal one where both sides feel like they are getting screwed but walk away knowing they could do no better, assuming neither side wants to be on the losing side nor wants to force others to lose with a great recognition of loss? 

There is a natural order to everything, with tension and opposition, where wrongs are not righted by direct opposition, but by a settling balance. The tug and pull of differing perspectives with mismatched rankings of importance where both sides are striving to right a clearly marked wrong reaches a power-play-produced equilibrium where both sides are fighting so hard to correct said opposing wrong that neither can make the other budge from their position of supposed rightness (which may (at times) be more out of pride and stubbornness than infallible belief in a cause). This kind of balance risks breaking with a sudden snap and forcing one side forward and another back with a chaotic blast that shocks both parties and breathes life into brand new problems with brand new opposing solutions as teams once again form along The Next Big Panacea’s proposition lines.  

If both sides were to concede and accept some imperfections, that too would represent an equilibrium, but one where both sides could relax with a tension much less likely to reach a breaking point. Peace is not a state of perfect equality, but a state acceptance and appreciation of inequalities. A body at rest can and will stay at rest, when all of the forces acting upon it are in balance. I want to lessen the pressure exerted on my own body, and remain at rest, by accepting my own lot in life, and doing what little I can to overcome my little struggles and navigate my own personal highs and lows.  I checked the weather today: it’s not so bad out there. 

the war on drugs

recock gunshot sudden recoil. drugs smoked off aluminum foil. falling fleeing losing feeling. unknown unplugged rewind reeling. fast-forward timeline’s torn to tatters. breathing in breaking down losing touch fried grey matter. op-ed opt in open call open role. state your worth sell your time pay your taxes take your tolls. reductionist absurdity boiled down still bubbling. evaporation nothing left drinking air for sustenance. words on tongues: dissolving melting. thoughts on repeat: screaming belting. a helping hand’s a handout when necessity commands. supply some bad ideals create demand demand demand. mixed media mixed emotions mixing drinks with pill prescriptions. doctors put on pedestals for treating all our fake afflictions. but does it help who does it help? the difference is the payout. we’ve done all that we could do says a whisper seeming like a shout. pain killers kill pain until a shake rings empty silence. in absence needles fill the veins of new street market clients. advertising: consult your doctor don’t dare live days discomforted. a war on drugs is a fight for big pharma: don’t believe all as it’s contorted.