The way being can trap your lungs in a grin,
and it can wrangle you with greasy salvation.
This wasn’t supposed to be this way
but It’s exactly the sense i imagined.
It makes me proud that we can go home
to four walls and a dim and a quiet
and i am one of you
because of that.
How many feelings and thoughts do we fight?
Instead of just letting them rest there weary heads on our chest plate
so we can pick up our forks
when we are hungry to know.
We forget to have medicine patience.
the time it takes for
our physical to digest the new.
Does food have names so that our body can prep for it?
Do we need to get better at naming feelings so that salt makes more sense to our saliva?
I will survive to wonder.