I look for answers but only find questions.
I look for gratitude in self,
But sometimes find ignorant expressions.
It’s so sickening to me,
Of the possibility of who I could be.
I peacefully fight for positivity.
This devilish divide in me,
Multiplies my pinnacle plea.
What an excruciating place to be.
And I know I’m not the only me.
Ten mattresses down I feel the pea,
Even all the way to 6 feet beneath the trees.
Death is wet.
Life is fire.
I grow young and tire.
I regress yet still aspire.
I feel old and lose desire.
I melt and cease to inspire.
But then the cardinal directions and sacred seasons,
Dance around my faulty logic and reasons.
Decade by decade,
Century by century,
Millennium by millennium.
What a mess I am in.
What a masterpiece I must pin,
To a board when I’m most bored.
Can I just cut off my ear and be queer to these damning thoughts I hear?
Or can I fake it until I paint it?
Sell it until I make it to heaven’s forsaken consummation?
The ultimate concentration of the holy mind’s consecration.
It’s so overly obvious, it’s ballistically blatant.
I just hope I can have that prestigious patience,
While I wait for myself to finally make it.
Oh wait, I already did that with today’s cosmic cadence.
-Christopher Andrés Núñez