The New Year feels like a porch swing ride
late in the evening, when
late in the evening, when
no one's watching
It feels both calm & quiet
and
lonely as fuck
I would swing here a long time,
It feels both calm & quiet
and
lonely as fuck
I would swing here a long time,
but for becoming conscious;
my self-consciousness agitates
what could have been
a tranquil ride, a peace
to be savored;
turns it into an excruciating exercise
of will
power:
"Slow down,
of will
power:
"Slow down,
Move faster,
Rest,
Do something!"
Rest,
Do something!"
Who are all these loud and demanding bitches
in my head telling me
I can't sit here swinging alone in the darkness?
Daring
not to be afraid
Daring
not to be taking
my own
sweet time
to grow?
not to be afraid
Daring
not to be taking
my own
sweet time
to grow?
