Confused Bubbs

If I broke the bubbles in the bath with a sledgehammer , I thought myself a murderer.
When I break my own heart, I feel like a loser in the gutters of East Toronto.
What is the difference between smashing up other peoples lives
instead of your own?
What makes guilt fight conscience?

What makes you live so poorly
so intentionally unpotentially?
You know there is more out there for you
then sucking bubbles down your throat trying to drown your sorrows,

as if air could do that anyways.



Motivational Sky


The sun is just around the curve;
whispering this to you,
The Sky.

Back lit and caressing all that is seen,
with a strong subtlety
of grey purple.

The world is still quiet here
pyjama shuffling slipper feet,
and I smile.

Today is choices and availability
to do and to be purposeful,
just the way

The Grey Purple of the Sky-
the chance at another Day,
tells me to be.



It’s Inside

Sometimes dramatic thoughts and not thinking about the realistically or literally or common sensically, way, is fun. It’d endearing to my own self. I believe in it . For the fun. For the youthfulness.
And standing on that once upon a time wizard feel, is a fantastic. I feel the confidence that comes with being proud. that’s easy to feel when you have the audience praise popping around the stage of life you’re making. And when you don’t , when you find that the spark’s been sucked up, or you cant light wet ash, you create the fire,you become the rest of the part you stumbled with.
In growing older, you question whether you are being the so young so too much and you wonder about the crowd u want to attract
.
And once you realize the place you want to exist in for yourself, you can love that you can know the power in the relationship you make with who you are.

Living In a Universe

Shall I fall apart, away or inwards?
Shall I grow bigger in my demise, or take seven steps out and start, yet again?

Oh the people that have death, would they envy us? Watch us live so shallow? If only we could die for awhile, just so that we could live again, like we should.
How come some people live like that, without having needed to be dead?

Maybe they come from stellar parts of the universe.

Living Spinny

Sometimes
do you ever feel crazy?
Like you’re a living condition
of clear and of dizzy?

You’re that walking Motherboard
of all your own thoughts and service
and that you aren’t always living
with what you’d call purpose.

Drifting in the luxuries of ignorance and time
a royal game of powder glam
and you’re just in the corner
making strawberry jam.

Easy Effort

“Can you wind message me?”
he asked, with pre-drip eyes.
I was leaving, he knew
at the next sunrise.

I smiled so softly
even teddy bears would be proud,
as I blundered on a “yes “,
a “for sure “; to him this I vowed.

And so I would kiss the air
every evening and day,
wipe my miss tears on feathers
“I love you “ I‘d say.

What consolation,
to have the leaves wiggle back,
a grin on my cheekbones,
two feet on one track.

It wasn’t long after,
when the journey was done,
he smiled a thank you
“for the whispers “ dear Mom.

King Globe

Candy coated sugar kings,
we tell ourselves our own jokes
by looking in the mirror.

Would I rather be tin man
and rust,
instead of feeling these highs and lows?

Maybe I just sit on my gold chair
alittle longer each time,
waiting out the anticipation
of falling into mud again.

Is happiness more for the good people?