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and then there’s the spot
where I want to stop
the rhythmic drumming of wants
my daily waves and thoughts
coalescing juggernauts
a staccato of inkblots
on my page of “calling the shots”

this is my life
and the desires arise
wrong or right
outside or inside
the trickling insights
are the journey
not the prize

it’s grey and rainy today
i wear my favorite face
melancholy dressed in the space
of some far-away’s fancy lace
the haunting of a different day
that I could be in another place
punctuating my shifting states
exclaimed with epic mistakes
but yesterday is not today

it wasn’t planned
giving love to the damned
without sex or romance
the strength to understand
that grasping which empties hands
hanging to the jazz of chance
every tune scripts the dance
present exchanges with past
looking back with a lover’s glance
on a weighted balance
delicately resting

It was the curl of the wave’s breaking
nothing more ordinary than being
it sat weird and awkward like feeling
extraordinarily emptying
suddenly the crumbling at the end
instead of the smooth riding up to it
caught in a crunch of inadequacies
after forgetting genuine simplicity

Now all your complexity makes neurotic
your lost innocent childlike curiosity
to concentric conditioning moving
and talking with your mouthpiece
these lips they need to speak and these
eyes need to share how they see
who was I before I forgot how to breathe
this clean air cures me of impurities
washed with mundane spirituality
I’m told to just let it be and it is free