Interrogations

Forceful interrogations under dim headlights lead me to re-evaluate my age. When was the day I was born? How can I be sure that's my real birth certificate, and not one generated by the state of Indiana for purposes of initiation? Look here, it says my age - even has my exact birthday - how long ago was that? Why can’t I remember? Each day a backspace of my understood world. How much do you have to go through to live a life? - a question asked each passing year, holding my birth certificate in one hand and a shovel in the other, looking in places of promise, yet unable to unearth any answers. Some live for love, some get addicted to the pain of life - not sure if I have found my equilibrium. The years pass, numerically thrown back like a bouquet to the vultures of tradition. Every blossom counts, even a port-a-potty can blow sweet winds of love.

The map of life in my hands. I am familiar with the land, but the map I cannot understand, written well before my time. I follow it opportunistically for a chance at some sense. When can you enter into peace with your understanding of the world if it forever feels infinite? Confident in a route when the map is unexplored. Losing years swallowed up by gravity's memory. Unravel down the slide until skin can no longer handle the burn and bones can no longer support limbs. Baby fat turns to adult fat, baby teeth into fangs of consumption - biting into the world and draining it of beauty - no surgery for that. Terraform the mind till content. Look! You have become who you have meant to be all along. How strange it all is, no words do justice to the initiation and follow through of life. Trapped inside your own mind now for 25 years, rambling on - the crazies grow from within.

25 years of life. Blinking and listening and vibrating and touching and smelling and feeling and misunderstanding and letting go and giving in and falling down and getting picked up and digging and poking and prying until something comes to the light of earth - deep within nothing makes sense and you're all alone, but externally there is a life and world you were born into and now have made with these years on Earth. You choose the direction - trust the roads, rivers and streams, keep your head to the sky to hear its clues.

More years lay ahead, until the natural order of things runs you off into a ball of energy somewhere different. Thank you life! For your confusion, for the opportunity to live in the question, for reflection, melancholic moments that prove the happiness of life has found you here and there. Damn. The walk of life morphs into future confusion - brace for reflection - come to your own unhealthy understanding of it all to then attempt to come to a healthy understanding of it all. That’s why it goes by so quick. We spend so much time and enegery trying to make sense of it all. Years spin around and the question remains unanswered - "i wish i knew then what i know now" - yeah fuckin' right - keep me in the dark, a few more go arounds and im ready to be saved, but within my body and mind - ignorance to the moment takes the form of death and with it survives only warped time, peppermint to bad breath, a cover up so deep that all invovled rescind responsibility, when the moment builds up so tall it bursts and the world moves on with new dramatic ruptures of energy. Please keep going. Each year I say nothing. Please keep going.