scribbling again (?)

How precious to share the same sun as those before you

Knowing your grandmother once slept under the moon you do each night.

You live for yourself in the footsteps of the generations behind you

With only more and more paths to unfold just from given destiny.

My ghosts have become a chip on my shoulder 

As my friends seem to go missing

I sit and count everything I live for.

Very rarely does this happen in my world today.

I should start carving out more time for this 

I should start believing in a disgusting romance 

Just like I had done only a few years ago.

I should remove “I should” out of my vocabulary 

and start to say “I do” or “I am” or whatever.

In dedication to that day in May

As golden rays danced along the cement of East Broadway 

A picture I wish every human could breathe in

Chattering gossip of different stories engulfed me in a panorama

I heard that heartbeat once again.

As the beautiful world welcomed me back in.

Once you remember that you're an ant

Why do you trouble what others may perceive you as?

No one quite remembers a fool- only the joy radiated. 

A joy that yanks me around like a puppeteer toying with their marionette

Even on my awful days 

When my back makes me limp and whine. 

From holding numb tension that is stored in my mind.

I get very jumbled.

As I wear the many hats I choose to place on my head. 

Constantly ticking; worried about wasted potential

Jumbled as I get home with no one to care of me,

With blisters on my left toes 

Struggling to give myself a pep talk 

just

to get 

one 

minor 

task 

complete-

the only time i ever feel lonely.

This morning, I want to thank whatever higher power chose to make the sky that bright pink color I love so much. 

Though the life I used to live is now foggy and this new one is a hurricane

I can acknowledge there are things around me that have remained the same.

Just like this pink sky. 

So, as the happy and sad changes twist and turn my head in every direction

There’s a new sense of calm and wonder

As I acknowledge our world of hidden joys and hopes.

Sitting down to scribble; indenting stale notebook paper

To make sense of this new Oz I was dropped into.

“Heaven only knows.”

I think the structure of this writing is off, I think a lot of this seems spotty and unknown. But, we can appreciate a revival.

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how to dust myself off

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Homesick.