the armor is a lie
just like the cape is.
it’ll really just get caught in the propeller
while you’re skydiving.
it might as well be another mask
you wear to a ball.
it’s all gloss and glitter,
smoke and mirrors
and the world continues to spin madly on.
are you spinning
or doing the spinning?
if you flip upside down
but your eyes takes images and flip them
are you flipped or are you flipping?
can you be the one to do the action
or the one to have the action to you?
you don’t control it all anyways
except your smile.
smile at him
smile at me
smile in the mirror
and recollect your thoughts
the mirror might be fogged up from the steam in your mind
it might be a little cluttered and misshapen
but your soul is still there,
it’s still a light even if it’s covered up.
let’s find a shovel to move out all this dirt
and see what treasure we find.
a gem, a peach, a saint, or something else all together.
let’s find it, label it, box it,
and understand it.
then years later when we’ve accidentally buried it (again)
we’ll find that dusty old spoon
and dig like our lives depend on it,
because, well, it really does.
and, you know what, that’s just fine.
a cha-cha here and an electric slide there,
a mamba and the dougie there,
it’s all just moving.
you get points for just moving,
for just getting up–
for just waking up,
for daring to open your eyes
and take another breath
and try to conquer that day.
you get points for just being.
if my heart melts for you
then let’s go to the snow to ice it back up again
or let’s go to the beach and let it thaw
let’s go anywhere
as long as we can melt together
but if you’re not melting
then I’ll pack up my puddle
and take it with me
I can freeze it back up
or swallow it whole
if it’s meant to be
then it will be
who were you two years ago?
who are you two years now?
the gap in time
seems punctuated with disappointments,
heartaches and birthdays.
if this is the life you’re living
are we living?
this lack of sleep is draining on me,
but my body is alive for those late night adventures
and back to back events.
can we run on these fumes indefinitely?
if this fire burns bright in the dark,
where is it in the daylight?
I want to hop out of bed on a mission
to change this world
where did the passion go?
we sit and quiet down,
is this life?
I’d like to rewrite history
by changing the present.
do I have the tools,
or one leap?
can there be real change
if we’re chained to the habits we’ve created?
everything is easier said than done,
until we’ve tied our tongues
in a world aimless path
and wandering eyes,
where do we look for the answers?
“Silence your thoughts
and open your mind”
yeah, well fuck you
she was fighting the tears
she felt as if her soul might drown
but keep it together,
someone is counting on you.
no one is
but if you don’t lie to yourself you won’t make it to when the sun sets
and the moon take flight
and you can hide your pain
judgements flutter in and out of your consciousness
as you try to keep your eyes alive and friendly
the smile is at your mouth
but hasn’t reached your eyes today
the birds would like to sing their song
but you’re not listening to them either
she’s forcing the ocean to stay still
as it crashes to the sand.
you have no push or pull at all.
or a substance that’s much like an amoeba.
absorb this, try that,
keep the thoughts away,
find the sun.
it’s hiding too.
rain on your parade
as you parade your love in the streets.
you’re lying to yourself,
there’s no parade.
besides you don’t even know where to start.
so the parade is an internal conversation
that you keep playing over and over,
the tape is getting stuck in the player.
hopefully it doesn’t swallow it this time.
you’ll find another track to play on repeat
as the wheel spins madly in place.
the top keeps spinning
but it’s leaning.
do you catch it?
do you kick it aside
and stomp out its existence?
let’s roll the credits here
in a world full of unknowables
and also knowing the options
is just so much happening
if we fall behind
or jump ahead
what do we have?
who are you anyways?
the caterpillar blows his smoke in your face,
with a grin,
is it the drugs or it is his annoying habit of enjoying life?
but Alice digresses.
he smiles that cheshire cat grin,
which the cat does not appreciate him stealing his grin
but the faceless flowers look up to you
and then simultaneously look down at you.
eat this, drink that,
as your sizes go up and down,
the judgement goes up and down.
the flowers like how they bloom
but has an opinion about how you bloom.
shut it out, the experts say.
and yet the noise keeps getting in.
turn up the volume, the punk rock emo kid inside says to you.
the inner child is begging to get out
and that key is jingling on your wrist.
is Alice the only one who can’t seem to use that key?
she’s got mud on her prim and proper shoes
but at least her hand are clean.
then again, that means she hasn’t done anything to make them dirty.
are we just living a clean life?
no fun, no play, just trekking along?
does your inner child have a chance to put something in the suggestion box?
are they silenced?
do you even know what they sound like?
well shit, Alice thought she had this down
but she was wrong.
wrong is wrong.
but the world is not black and white
but a blur of colors.
wrong isn’t wrong,
is it just a new shade?
an eye for an eye
makes the whole world blind
but what if no one is using their eyes in the first place?
have you ever been looked at,
but looked through?
all of us are looking down
at something else
that catches our attention
are we all too self-focused to see anyone else’s invisible tears?
a joke here,
a witty comment there,
to cover up so much more.
a joke might just be that
but how many are more?
how do you help?
how do we lend a hand
when someone might not see your gesture as helpful?
you can’t force your help,
just like you can’t make them drink the tea.
the herd moves this way,
the conversation migrates another direction,
do you speak up
or just ride the winds?
if 2 + 2 =4
and everything shakes down
into some type of order
are you still standing at the end of it all?
should you be?
do you want to
or are you hoping a strong wind will blow you over
and you’ll pick up the pieces then?
the pieces might just be easier to stomach
than the bigger picture
her heart felt as if it was bursting
but not with pain
but with joy.
her cheeks were burning to raise
and create those crinkles on the sides of her eyes.
the world might be burning down
but at least someone loved her.
Alice had found the Mad Hatter
and they would skip hand in hand.
the flowers had put away their snide comments,
the Caterpillar was sharing his smoke
and everyone was feeling a type of cloud bliss.
Alice had even made up with the Queen of Hearts,
she only needed love as well.
someone to hold and to care for.
Chicken Little might have been right
and the sky might still be falling
but at least there was immeasurable joy
that had found a spot inside the house of her heart,
she could do this.