Ever since I was young, I was fascinated by the idea of dichotomies.
The hellish infernos that singe clockwork California summers
are the same flames that are tamed cook my burgers and steaks to a perfect medium rare.
How a man can be so hellbent on fracking juice from an unripe orange,
and the mother oasis, promising to hold safe its seeds till blooming,
evaporates not at high noon, but as the dimmest star succumbs
A great light ruled the day
and the lesser light ruled the night,
where the fruit’s scars are to be sealed in the past.
If only the sun never rose to a new day?
Carved into my brain, heart, and soul are scales
balancing the forces of fiery summers,
numbing, frost-biting winters,
and springs that sometimes bear daisies in the plains.
My constitution does not wane or wax overnight like passing moons.
Instead, it switches FM to AM to static to silence to metal to gospel like traffic lights flash from green to red,
I floor the gas pedal with a lead foot and go from zero-to-sixty
When I'm feeling free, I'll turn up my radio
and beg my hand shyly through the open driver’s window
like a bear cub learning from mother to fish for himself.
I am not driving the car.
I stand half an inch tall
and two grams soaking wet.
On the bitten fingernail of a calloused fingertip - that’s my fix.
I've yet to live great - let alone ask how to drive the car.
My explorations and experiences lay foundation
on a giant's contrived still hand.
I’ve wanted more and I always have.
I want to reach farther than him.
I must stop running. I’m tired, I promise. Folks, I promise I’m tired as hell.
I must stop wading through the oceans.
I must stop stepping through the flames.
I must stop looking for daisies that aren’t blooming in the plains.
I must stop mourning oranges who never bloomed.
I must stop running against the wind.
areudirty
dailybridgerton
jimmyeatworldofficial
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
