I chase the fear and force a face-off.
My hopes hang in the balance.
Across the threshold of resistance,
is another me.
Living the life I set out to live.
Where possibilities are truly possible.
The Mother who says you can do it-
also says, “Art is not a profession.”
You will embarrass us with our own vulnerability.
Do not hold up a mirror comprised of words and show us who we are–
Nobody truly likes their reflection, nor reflecting.
Insecurity is all the rage.
How happy can you be?
I bet you hate yourself, viciously.
Your filter skills, ferocious.
Wow or Woof- depends upon on a finger.
A button press.
Take all the fingers but spare my middle…
the world needs to see that one.
It’s all in the humble fumble-
The get up-
The try again.
How much can you take?
How heavy is the weight of the world on your shoulders?
Are all your dreams just a neck brace?–
Life is never painless, it is endless pain.
Money can’t heal you, it won’t make it better, but it will make the agony easier to withstand!
It will make you better than him, and her, Jack and Jill…
Those crown breakers that don’t follow ground rules.
Do I live in their world, or do they live in mine?
Such whirlwinds are for tornados, not people…
Yet here we are, spinning and spinning,
on a wrinkle away cycle.
All you California Raisins and New York City Craisins…
Looking for a permanent press when we should all be on delicate.
Ah- fuck the laundry,
I’ll deal with it tomorrow.