How many bright white moons have I missed looking down at clumsy feet, just hoping they get me home?
How many sunny days have I spent brooding in the basement with the curtains drawn?
I know we're built to walk and watch for movement but I always just want to lay down and close my eyes. And how dare I?
The world aches for recourse, repair, yet somehow I dare
Like a child who revolts against the only one who cares
the baby cries unaware
eyes fixated on the bright lights
heart fixated on the promise of something that could nourish
How many bright green leaves have I missed lingering in between these insulated walls?
Scrawling some crude rendition of plants, my hand grips the pen like a branch
ink vines crawling onto lines of paper, sound waves blossoming off the steel and nylon strings
mind fixated on the flower
heart fixated on the promise of something that could nourish
I go digging for tubers of poetry in desk drawers and mining for it in my heart just searching for something lit up and familiar, my eyes gaping but blind in the dark 'cause seeing ain't one act by one agent, it's a mingling of some freak phenomena. It's a rendezvous at a point and on a wave between the world and your eye ball and your mind fixated on the bright lights
heart fixated on the promise of something that could nourish