here we find ourselves in january;
welcome to the new year.
i’ve spent hours upon hours throwing things away,
throwing up the contents of my stomach.
days on end are strung together
and i’m feeling strung-out from some night of pain or ecstacy
that i cannot recall or revere as an actual circumstance
having occured in my current life.
age-old wisdom and elemental drive fill me to the brim;
being so on the verge of vitality and vibrance
gives me the chills and, oh!
i’m going to spill it all, spill my guts,
let the lion out of the bag.
here we come roaring all the way
through and through to december
and prepare ourselves to start again.
i started with starving, but, that doesn’t work.
scars are dangerous – the best thing to do
was open old wounds, sprinkle salt,
let insult to injury work its magic.
(naturally, this is no cure at all.)
from crazy to casual to knowing for sure
that nobody cares, sometimes the best thing to do
is just go with it, flow with it,
see things through to the end.
responsibility holds accounts with the accountable.
the reaper has come to collect our dues.
suddenly so much feels ominous.
three sixes straight in a row
means hard work and nose to the grindstone,
elbow greese and intuition in action.
next year, we get the lucky sevens.
skills and knowledge swell,
the path has been cleared a bit,
helpful people and travel abound,
and still my key is sticking.
i know now that it’s simply dull.
time for sharp changes, steep inclines.
usually this ends me at the ocean.
sow your seeds tenderly,
tend to them as they grow,
as you reap the rewards,
praise land and sky and sea
for all that you have to show.
go for the delicious;
give everything one-hundred percent.
i love you, baby.