when is morning?

when it feels not the same as it did
peaceful and found
when before lost and high
and low and exhausted on every bit of
daily matterings
and you loved it
and you love this

everywhere, she is
the smell of her in my clothes
the feel of her touchings
the memory of touch is far more profound
than the event of it

like those damn bath tissue commercials
most entertaining in your mind
with the puppies and the bears that
seal a suggestive sale when you see them on the packaging in the store
reminding you of the lovely feeling you felt when
they appeared on the television screen while you sat next to your lover with her hand up your skirt
so lovely a feeling that you purchase the overpriced consumerist clothe paper
so that you can re-experience that loveliness when really
you will wind up flushing away the expensive paper with you know what

everyone does it
indulgent in our own likings
stroking the hypothalamus of life
searching for an addiction
that nurtures for eternity

it seems odd to keep returning
when it makes not sense
turn off your mind
yes
let us silence the divining rod for experience
this is the only tool we have for protection

following a heart; divulging your soul to any damn stranger
you might meet such a stranger in a coffee shop
on some random Saturday afternoon over newspapers and tales of disaster
and financial ruin
and worries that cross a mind every other asinine second

it is like a fairytale
that is gruesome, grotesque
but yet meant for the minds
of vulnerable children
only to confuse the fuck out of them
when the goal of the tale is to morally educate
with visions of gold and poisoned apples from bitchy witches
and year long naps
and candy houses inhabited by dishonest, hot and sexy magical people
that all makes me feel a strong sense of self and ethicality
and you?

but yet i keep returning
to make not sense
and there
i lose myself for a few minutes here
and a few over there
those are the minutes that make me get lost in the middle of a crowded city
while simultaneously maintaining a smile on my face
a smile that says hello world
i’m happy, so just try and fuck with me
and it does
even though
i’m alone in a bed
being reminded that she’s alone in a bed
and we’re all alone in beds just
writing bullshit as we’re afraid the world is waking soon

1:48 am

fingers that are numbed
by the pain
and the cold wind
and the pressures of a moment

they move
and function
but ironically, you can't feel them

and when they thaw
you remember the pain
of the numbness
and they're sensitive beyond measure

almost immediately sensations
are taken for granted
as if you never ever had the opportunity to
appreciate the hell out of them

this is what makes me human