I’ve realized through trial and error
That the one thing I want in life
Is to be found.
Not the kind of found that you see
In movies or read
About in books.
I want that existential crisis.
Bring on 3:30pm poetry,
Nights of no sleep.
Give me whispers in tree branches-
Before the birds wake,
The quiet hum
And the deep rumble
Of old worries that I don’t know what
I am made of let alone where I am going.
All I know is that I am constantly in a state of transition:
Living and dying.
Some days are better than others
There are moments where every atom
But save one, feel death creeping in on protons
And all the electron shells constrict,
Sucking the air from my lungs
And space becomes empty of meaning.
Except, there is one goddamn atom,
One simple building block,
And it refuses to stop my heart
Let alone give up on me.
Give me hands drunk off craft beer,
Painting a thunderous sky
Become fully invested in the theory
That I am nothing more or less
Than the expansion of dreams
That refuses to be only skin deep.
Thank you morning for your impeccable timing.
To bed. To dream. To my inevitable disaster.