11pm
upstairs at the kitchen table
shoveling honey bunches of oats with peaches into my mouth
i swore i was going to stop eating right before bed
you know the point past full?
when your stomach has reach capacity and begins to stretch with each swallow
struggling to finish off your plate
it feels like aching.
this is going to be a trying month.
am i allowed to make that assumption yet? it's only been five days
but if you wait any longer it'll pass the 15th
and then you might as well not make any hypotheses
because by the time you do, the month will be over.
i swore i was going to stop lamenting
letting silent film gloss my eyelids and then wonder where the day went.
i need to stop pretending that if i came across romance
i'd know what to do with it right now anyway.
today i pretty much succumbed to the grind.
hardly got up to drink water, or go to the bathroom
brain hella on autopilot
pumped out websites, flyers, not that it's a bad grind,
a hurry for what i really want to do in life tugs at me.
it might be like that for all of march.
i haven't felt as compelled to write as i have for the past few months.
imbalance
some nights, i just give it a sigh, and admit i wasn't a writer today
just laid my bricks down and cashed my check in
march is always a difficult month
we're past the honeymoon phase of the new year,
we start realizing that we need to do shit before the rest of it passes,
meanwhile it begins the harsh birthing of spring
inconsistencies that bring hail on monday
and got white folks walking around in shorts by thursday.
in cali, the nights warm up and just before you start putting
your bubble jackets at the back of the closet,
rain again.
hella rain.
but when it's warm enough you approach it boldly
even spend an evening sitting on a random frisco driveway in a t-shirt,
getting lit to conversation
sky cloudy in fog and then some.
reminiscence, predictions, projections of fame and shit.
denizen passes the piece to you and says,
"you'll understand it more as you get older."
and though no one's said to me since i was 11
its relevance is startling
but it doesn't invoke that same feeling of wishing i was older
of fantasizing adulthood and awaiting automatic wisdom
trying on bigger pants, idealizing how great it'll be to have a job
and a house and a wife and a business hat
in this tone
there's some urgency
a warning to make of this time what you can
time passes by like opportunities
age bites at our heels
and so we march.