Grain of Sand

Grain of Sand

Ironically and deceptively when my thin pendulum swings down I keep my head down, super-glued to any semi solid surface looking toward the seat-belt to preface my pain. And I wallow in my bed stuck in mind, listening to the seeds that have adapted to the thorns and my sins protrude, like walking through a slum, the sadness and sorrow just sticks to you; like my bed is the streets into the founding fathers Virginia and my coat is stained red and my shame for my coat, just flourishes the fact that what I’m trying to hide is easier to see because I’m shoving it up the escalator. And when I’m feeling elation I jauntily sprawl out in bed lay my head on a pillow, relishing in this weariness of good-cause. I relish that this is like the third day, my spirit is lively, it’s striving to be your palm tree when that tsunami hits and displacements about. I lay in bed warm and snug, like this four-sided domain is soundproofed to the murmurs of this world and as I drift off to this trouble and paradise, I become unhinged, in the wake of devastation you are my brotherly love, but in this fixed system of asphyxiation, we call life, we have nothing to say. We’ve lived next to each other for twelve years and your name is as foreign as the seven billionth person in the world. Why can’t we see that the fumes are lighting up and this brotherly love has become utterly tough, because when it gets tense I know what might happen, we’ve grown so lethargic and we guard it like its  the worlds commodity, when we were suffering on the brink of devastation and the stock market crashed, we took of the life preserver that we so frequently use as a crutch and began to swim in unison with one another, life isn’t a competition for the grade that extra buck, its a commitment seven billion and growing, use your words like rice to the starving, your thoughts like novocaine to those prepped for the ER, your body language like fuel to those he need to be airlifted. Gold can’t be sold without being tempered once or twice, we are a community. Its unity and you and me. So regardless of the fact of how I’m feeling, if I’m laying in bed because I feel obligated or that my soul is sporadically dancing out of joy and I need a rest, don’t praise me for my sturdiness, I’m only a tree in his forest.