Best Part of Waking Up

And then suddenly I’m you
which means you see right through me.
You see I’m scared to choose.
Scared to say the things I have to say
again and again.
I‘ll say it again:

No one knows.
No one knows.
No one knows.

How do you stand it?

Remember the good times?
The clouds where we lived?
We’ve moved so far
from the good times now.
(Yet somehow,
someone surely remains…)

Every once 
in a while 
I will have coffee 
with the you I used to know.
We smile and talk
about who we used to be.

Best Part of Waking Up

Untitled No. LXI

When I was a child,
my father told me
I had a miscreant’s mouth
and a ne’er do well’s nose.

In the nights then,
my fingers bled feathers
and my brothers
bit my ears.

My sisters‬ and I
were ne’er to start,
yet we shared‬ the same father
so cooked from his fire.

Our mother‬ desired,
so delighted,
to have us‬ become
real‪ mother‪s, too.

Though she‬ was not‪ much‪
for mother‪-teaching‪ us,
so I left the family to grow
a ne’er boy of my own…

‪I aged and fell away
and imitated a‪ mother‪
despite the feathers
that fell from me.‬

‪My brothers aged,
more‪ interested
in‪ beautiful‪ women‪
obscured behind‪‪ counters.‬

‪I was‬ taken in by‪ a thing
pretending, and made lost‪
from‪ the‪ world
because‪ of‪‪ beauty.‬

‪My sisters‬
became bakers
and shopkeepers
and I turned towards them.‬

‪‪I‪ entered‪ their‪ shop‪,‬
and opened boxes
while their customers‪
stood by, impatient.‬

‪Inside the boxes
I‪ beheld their treats;
treats just like
little boxes.

‪I stared up
at my sisters,
box of boxes in hand;
ne’er such expression‪s.‬

‪They were quick
to‪ understand
and from the counter,
handed‪ me‪ a‪n empty box.‬

‪At last, they‪ pointed‪ back
to our shared pasts‬
and ne’er once asked
for explanations.

Untitled No. LXI