Apr 26


four short days
is all it's been
and this fog has
already begun to
settle in my brain
i miss blocking
the imperfections
and how easy it 
was while we
were gone

look up, the sea
look out, the sky
look down, and
begin to hope i
will sink into the
sand, so they will
stop watching me
the brim of my
hat the palm of
my hand can only
begin to block
the imperfections
the endless houses
with endless windows
and endless people
watching me 

"why isn't she
on her phone, why
isn't she with her
family? she simply
stands there by
herself, and for
what reason?"
whisper, whisper
to each other or
to themselves
thinking they are
better, perfect,
when they are
the imperfections
in my picture 

in 13 hours i
watched the 
flowers shoot
back into the
ground and the
the imperfections
​take over again
see the burning
sun lose all 
will to shine 
upon the world
as though we
are slipping
back in time

now back home
the imperfections 
follow me and i
can't block them
out like before
and all i want is
to simply burn
the imperfections

we all have them
that one desire
that one regret
that one person
perhaps they
have a right to
be there, perhaps
they don't, but the
point is that they 
have latched on
and how do you
break simply 
the imperfections
and not everything

the whole world, 
our whole society
is balanced on a
tightrope, made of
broken toothpicks
of scotch tape and
the imperfections
see us as we are
and take a side 
half will continue 
building what is not
right, what is easy
the other half will 
mindlessly break
the imperfections
never thinking of
the consequences

ask yourself how
come the villians
in the stories are
always the ones
who want things
to change, and
ask yourself what 
is so wrong with
changing as long
as we are burning
the imperfections
or perhaps burn
it all and start over
again, what is right
what is ethical 

is that just what 
we do, just our
whole nature
to destroy and
make the same
mistakes, who
is to say we 
will rise this 
time, who says
the phoenix will
come or leave 
us as we are
until there is
nothing left

this is who 
we are, what
we always do
you don't like
that dancer's
shoes? cut off
their whole foot 
might as well
watch as they
teeter and
watch as
they fall