I found an old poem I wrote in 2004.
I Am Not You
I don't have time to think about circumstance
It is what it-is-what it is important?
It's the same with consequence.
The life you plan is the life you miss.
Do that. You'll break down to this:
Even energy feels dormant.
I want to be full on more than dinner.
Let the scrapes-love-laughter-blood-
Lips that talk the tornado-
Eyes that flow the flood
Bring about an articulate simmer
Spiced with clove smoke
Love notes
Wisdom of the valid
Struggle of the beginner.
Stirred in my head, my heart, my toes
By the wind of the talks we nightly compose.
The waves of zeal
The craze of feeling.
This.
The cities, the pities, the goddamn committees
Why separate to juxtapose?
Then translate to re-compose?
"Add my ebbs, subtract your flows.'
Become what you deem you might've chose.
Really
You're as black as talcum
And as blue as a rose.
I am not you.
I don't have time to think about circumstance
It is what it-is-what it is important?
It's the same with consequence.
The life you plan is the life you miss.
Do that. You'll break down to this:
Even energy feels dormant.
I want to be full on more than dinner.
Let the scrapes-love-laughter-blood-
Lips that talk the tornado-
Eyes that flow the flood
Bring about an articulate simmer
Spiced with clove smoke
Love notes
Wisdom of the valid
Struggle of the beginner.
Stirred in my head, my heart, my toes
By the wind of the talks we nightly compose.
The waves of zeal
The craze of feeling.
This.
The cities, the pities, the goddamn committees
Why separate to juxtapose?
Then translate to re-compose?
"Add my ebbs, subtract your flows.'
Become what you deem you might've chose.
Really
You're as black as talcum
And as blue as a rose.
I am not you.