the look back is messy
and the look forward is fickle,
forgotten often is the present,
which some people need
a periscope to see.
my perspective ain't pretty,
for it presents itself in me
as a constant quest
to be better than I was yesterland,
but it is fucking hard.
my default is fear,
forged by my mother,
and from an early forever
I have been trying to shed that skin
to find a new home.
now that I have,
I keep waiting
for it all to make sense,
get easier, lighter,
but it is still a childish chore.
you'd think coming close to death
would make it all automatic,
but it is harder than ever
to gloss over the inconsequential
and focus on the worthwhile.