Big soak for small umbrella

i feel more comfortable in the dark.
where as the light illuminates,
the dark hides.
people, for the most part,
are asleep.
this gives me a sense of security.
cloaked by night,
my abnormality awakens.
of course, it might just be
my judgement that is abnormal.
i look like you,
i behave like you,
i think like you.
a normal umbrella does not
give full coverage.
for the most part,
we are covered.
the rest is drenched.

Death marks beauty

is death taboo?
should it be taboo?
it hasn’t been until i’ve aged
that death has been a topical subject.
we gloss over it.
we’re not to dwell on it.
but why not?
is it not a natural part of existence?
should we not teach what we grow
of its inexorable demise?
why not teach a acceptance
of ones own end,
instead of cushioning it with poesy?
buying into the notion of
slowing degeneration,
we’ve allowed a lie.
we see the inevitable
but we powder away it’s
unequivocal presence.
it’s only when we wash our face
that we see truly what we are.

Living to die

life will be the death of me.
it’s simple.
life degrades upon conception.
the count down commences.
whittle what we may in
what we think, feel and be,
but time holds no exceptions.
the expenditure of time
influences its duration.
investments in pleasure
or pain doesn’t matter,
it’s of the same origin.
i will remember birth
as i will death.

Looking around at looking around

i don’t often look around,
but when i do,
i notice others looking around.
why do i look around?
why do they look around?
there are no predators near,
at least i hope not.
so why the eyes?
i’ve been grazing the same field,
yet, how things change when looking up.
the ground remains,
the sky is constant,
but this middle view,
how it changes.
it’s hard to eat from the ground
and keep one’s eyes level.
how can one admire the stars
while keeping track of what’s in front?

Wiping my gas

i can wipe my ass,
masterfully i might add,
with toilet paper,
but when it comes to
regular blank paper,
i’m blocked.
it’s like artist’s constipation.
i don’t want to continue to wipe
if it’s just going to leave me raw.
i don’t mind some things raw,
but my ass is not one of them.
there’s only so much shit
one can push until
it’s all just gas.