The only way to be

There is no other way to be.*
I abandoned "youthful idealism"
Adopted a view of the realist.
Cynical.
No other way to be?
In years I will find this a necessary truth.
That under it all there is practicality in remaining optimistic.

*there kind of is

Now What?

Mexican tapeworms and Spanish fly.
There's a bullseye on her back.
And a tally on the wall.
I've envisioned some romantic dream.
That I swear is true.

I'm on the wrong map in the wrong place.
Delightfully captivated by fools.
No matter.
I've got the right tools for the job.

And Repeat

Blank pages and missed opportunities.

Wake up, kick start the day.
Shuffle on through.
Settle down, let the night set it.

And repeat.

Welcoming awareness.
Transcending knowledge and intelligence.
It falls out of reach quicker than it comes.
Indefinable translations that no artist whom sets to it can brush.

What are we going to do with all this?
Pushing on some great wall.
Afraid of the fall off. Or the giant leap.
Baby steps my dear.
On the cusp of something. 

And repeat.

Tourist of Life

I'll just hit the bottle.
You'll find me at the end.

What is the purpose of this mess?

Lifting, shifting, sifting.
Head full of nothing.
Hopelessly navigating a bullshit life.
Best to snap a camera picture so you don't forget.

How's it feel?
Never realizing under the veil lies true beauty.

The bestest thing I've ever typed

It's difficult
On a convergence
I am going to write something so precise it transcends culture and society.

When you stop, you drop.