Like an eagle,
like a dancer,
I vomit with the best of them.
In the process of change,
I am pulled apart
and put back together like a Warhol collage.
From gross pinecones
to devil songs,
I belong on this earth, in this shirt.
Suddenly I find
I have darkness on my mind
and I am never satisfied.
The future is forever,
but I am not,
and that's okay.
My one true
look is to constantly try
to be better and write forever.