than pleasant distraction. Sometimes
it's what we settle for but it always seems
to turn sour sooner or later.
I want the deep dive
I want the blooming flare
I don't want to feel merely okay,
though in the wake of trauma
that in itself can be enough
for a while.
Right now for instance I'd be happy
to be able to walk without this pain
every time I take a step.
But after a while I'd once again start
to want more, would yearn again
for passion, for depth, for flight
Because if none of it feels urgent,
if none of it feels necessary,
then what's the point?
I'm not saying it has to be consant.
Rest is important. In between bursts of fire
it's good to cool down and breathe but
where is that fire
We are stiff, we are flat, we are blank
Notice the hollow look in our eyes,
notice the slouch, the gaping mouth
We are proving that the dead can in fact dance
a lackluster shuffle ending in a pirouette
that suspiciously resembles a slump
to the comfortable carpet, with a battle crythat sounds a lot like a snore.
I'm tired of dreaming. I want to awake
with a roar. I want us to scream
into each others' mouths,
to laugh and kiss and cry
and never stop feeling ever again