More or less.

Wanna be what I wanna be.
It ain’t right, it ain’t hiring,
it ain’t hyped, it ain’t typed.
I can be more but I ain’t.
I wish I can be more or less different.

I’m a powerhouse, confused energy.
Someone please bottle me so I can break free.
Rather be a fly, not a rat,
though wild things have my respect.

Say the word make that last.
You can have what you looking at.
Say I don’t give a shit while pleading to the man,
“Come save me, please don’t leave me behind.”

It’s interesting you have a brain,
yet you can’t decide,
to go forward or go back,
something safe or outta the mind.

No talk, no show, no business card,
rather be a punk than a rock star.
Life’s too short for money and cars.
Give me a sec, teach me what is love?

I grow over you.

I thought you were the only one who could read me,
we were two of a kind.
Even after you slapped me twice and sent away my cat.

You said you were treated liked a girl growing up,
that’s why you treat women the way you do,
belittle them to make yourself feel more like a man.

I was told I was a mistake, should’ve been a boy.
You know what, no biggie, kinda used to disappointment.
I suspect you wouldn’t know how to raise a boy anyway.

My mother’s neurotic and she’s not even on the wine.
Got gallbladder stones from all the rage, never been treated kind.
Hollering for justice with all the righteousness of the blind.

I learned to appear calm when the two are howling at each other.
Every time though I feel the tinge of pain some place left to my heart.
I can move out, but somehow, people make me anxious like they gonna explode.

I didn’t want to grow up like this, but I did grow up like this and now
I’m finally in a space of my own. I can do crazy things, meet crazy people
and act I’ve been happy all along. I still doubt. I’m afraid. I’m in control.

Unsteady.

I’m unsteady.
After autumn comes spring.
I’m unsteady.
Mocked for being a graceless wretch.
I’m unsteady.
Not your friendly, agreeable type.
I might bump into you
without an apology
cause I really don’t notice it.

I’m unsteady.
Resigning to fate.
I’m tumbling.
You laugh at me.
I play footloose with gravity.
My hands quick & the branch’s sturdy.
Unconsciously I save myself.
You’re amazed at my agility.
I think it’s a pity
I’m not head over heel.

I’m unsteady.
No script, all actors.
Too cool to be real.
Just a healthy dose of no fucks given.
I may hail you as a villain,
so we are even, so we can be
unsteady, interestingly,
defiantly, definably.
To pave the ground
for those to walk on
who can be unsteady.

What I hope I’d learned.

What I hope I had learned:
nobody knows what they are doing.
They try to stop you from going anywhere
because they themselves are scared.

Earn your independence at all cost,
it’s the foundation of all else to come.
People will tell you that this is wrong
then do their darnedest to weight you down.

Next comes the journey to be free,
don’t think it’s as easy as it sounds.
Pay attention to how you spend your time.
Staying too comfortable you got it wrong.

Follow your passion is as cliché as they come.
Listen to the heartbeat whatever you’ve been running from.
It does not matter if it’s impossible or nobody will remember.
Sweet is the life that’s obstinately on fire.

Just a crack.

The sludge is heavy in here. Everything’s still, so still, exactly how I left it the previous day. Do I wish something to change out of the blue? My little predictable domain? Always expecting surprises and keeping getting disappointed. But I have to write it down. It has been too long and something wants to get out. I want something else to change so it’s easier to deal. Getting distracted. My eyes roam but they miss everything. From my vantage point I can’t make out a damned thing that I can use. I hear nothing but dead static noises made by something that’s suffocating me that’s also making me comfortably warm. I feel like a ghost inside a box that’s already buried. A confine? A coffin?

I slide open the door a crack. Just a crack, because it’s supposed to be frigid cold outside. But what’s this? What IS this? I nudge my nose inside the crack like a dog lapping at the rushing cool fresh air and I get the sensations: like the first dab of a painter’s brush, like the weak yet triumphant cries of a baby bird; like the glassy eyes of a lazing cat in the afternoon sun. It smells, upon closer reliance on my eyes, of wet, supple, black, juicy earth, of the blushing-green brave new grasses upon it, of the tree that’s full of majestic life opening, connecting to the whole of the sky, and to me. I implore, beg my nostrils to open wider, get a life, fly high while still hiding my under-appreciating bulk inside safety and warmth. Just poking my nose out between the crack like a fucking junkie inhaling the life back into the body.

Then I closed the door and started working on getting rid of something I can’t possibly live without.

Us.

It’s OK baby
I like the way you are.
You don’t have to do anything
have a rest in my arms.

The world can be a cold place,
more the treasure, our little spark.
It may not last forever but
just a moment is quite long enough.

It’s alright love
you don’t have to say it.
I’m not here for your confession
nor am I your judge.

Life can be a gamble
& nobody knows the rules.
This view may not be perfect
but come on man, it is all for us.