So I guess my brain’s somewhat lighter. My lungs are darker. My eyes a little fuzzier and my thoughts a little clearer. My waist is bigger but my heart’s shrunk drastically. When I blink the world gets worse and unless you put some effort into it- it won’t get any better. I’ve got to get better.
Someone once said “quality isn’t an act, it’s a habit”. If we met him today we’d leave him unemployed and he wouldn’t bathe like the rest of them. He’d probably log on to couchsurfing.com and have hair so messy it would look cool from afar. He’d tell you to call him ‘tot’ for short and roll his own cigarettes. Of this, I am certain.
The uncertain is too vast to celebrate anymore. The future is uncertain and that’s what makes it so scary. That’s what gives me hope. Hope to get better. Hope to weigh down my brain, pink up my lunges, clear out my eyes, and fill my mind with more than I need. My waist can stay the same so long as my heart grows back to size. I hope to hate to blink, for blinking means closing my eyes to a world so beautiful and uncertain even Aristotle would have a chance. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.
Warming our ball-toes
Curled over the five inch flame
And squealing when we get too close.
It burnt our toes
And made our cheeks just as red
Like they turned in years prior.
Along the walls of our stomachs
The flutter of butterfly wings
Tickle the inside of our nervous bodies.
Quickly the nerves dissipate
Because it feels so natural
To be this close to you.
