Les Heures Du Jour

I write everyday
to be known as a writer.

I walk,
drink coffee,
and put clothes on,
because i want to be recognized as a human.

Only humans
need validation,
and to be seen
as perfected
and constructed.

The things I
adore in this world
are noticeably
made by my own kind,
with the ability to tear,
and unique in every way.

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Reasonable bounds

As I was getting dressed this morning,
I started to hate my clothes.

This mustard sweater
just isn’t enough.

It’s pilled,
worn,
and empty of youth.

These sneakers are too small.
And the edgy rip in my jeans has
frayed into a gaping hole,

I need a new wardrobe,
and new way of life,
one that is simple
or
extravagantly elegant.

This year

We’re leaving a whole year behind.

But
This year,

This year I’ll be whole

I’ll sleep into 2016
like the well rounded being
that I strive to be

Starting off the year
drunk and defeated
was for last year.

All of the memories made
and not made will
be put in a file,
and sent to the publisher.

I will clean,
I will get rid of the things that don’t bring me joy,

Caring all of this stuff around can
get tiresome.

For this new year,
I will be
light.

CHange

Everyone tells you to be confident,
to completely fall in love
with yourself.

But the overly confident person
is not likable.

Someone sure in their every step and movement,
is not relatable.

The self degrading comic
is well received by the audience.

Forget about this poem.
I’ll journal today instead. This poem was going nowhere, fast.
My birthday and the new year are fastly approaching, next day, next week,. What are my goals? I guess to write everyday. To run everyday. And to paint everyday. But I need to turn these goals into a money making goals. It is a fact that I need to make more money if I want to change my current situation. Today, after a long day at work. I will apply to jobs. I will sketch something for the new canvas and I will walk the dogs.

Everywhere

I packed up the car,
fitting my red kayak in the passenger seat
and hit the road.

I was floating seamlessly
down the path I took the last time.

I paddled against the flow,
for hours.
Only to reach the last canal.

The current had no mercy
and I was left defeated
under a dock.

In the vulnerability of sinking and being rescued
is a familiar feeling.

A newborn being pulled out of the mother

I lost my shoes and my phone.
Left naked.

Nature is more powerful than my needs.
That river did not take into account that I wanted to go home,
that I was alone,
or where my car was.

From now on, I will submit.