senses

i don't even know what to write

(i'm sick (physically) and frustrated (mentally))

i've written so many things and backspaced them all

what happened?

sight

what a waste of time i was today!

i watched youtube videos for an hour

how useless! i could be outside sitting

doing my becomingfullyhuman homework

playing piano. i wonder if i'll backspace this paragraph too

later - after this (i am picking myself up, don't nag)

hearing

the hush sound - sweet tangerine

sweet tangerine would you please come back to me

i love music, i really do.

but sometimes it hinders me from being with myself

i find myself with a tune in my head, so many moments

i have a constant swing, a pulse, a beat

and i realize i can't be with myself

until i've cleared my head, opened my mind

asked for heart-cleaning, calmed my worries

a hypocrite in many ways, my heart is a black glove

worn by dirt-speckled hands, like freckles

they decorate my evilest of cores

when God takes over, how can Satan come?

it's a wonder; i am blind, i am deaf!

touch

touch is a wonder

who knew one finger

could seduce your senses

into a single throb

throb, throb

smell

when you are sick, you can't smell

taste

nor can you taste. and you wonder what

you were doing, rejecting the peas

on the half plate

when you

were

ok

wonder

ours is a thieving culture

this postmodernism,

(what are we, the bleakest future?)

this stagnant wind

(not a wind at all, then, i suppose, just oxygen)

burglering the 60s, the 70s, the 80s

even the polyester 90s

barely standing up; we sing of it:

revolution

HA!

x

i merely write of things

thinking of ways to change