I feel stuck in a sea of the past,
but I swim on,
offering glimpses of everyday life:
I can see my house from here,
this apartment in Brooklyn,
new shit and error.
eleven things a good copywriter does
while desperately wanting to know
twelve things about existence.
coffee and confusion,
love is just an alligator's kiss,
and I can't keep going on like this.
someday, everything
will come my way
if I stand still for a moment.
when Satan says dance,
I tend to sit,
never doing what I am told.
tomorrow doesn't matter,
and yesterland is dead;
now is the ellipses tattooed on your back.