My Present Day

Tomorrow holds wonders nigh impossible to fathom,

The very notion of tomorrow trivializes the nature of this present day.

To know that today’s misadventure will die to convex edge of tomorrow’s dagger,

The holy yesterday cutter, day stabber,

Time stutters when forced to not matter.

The very notion of the next threatens the dream of today,

A dream of finite possibilities demanded to stay in shape;

I need recognize the next day lest the glass on my telescope cracks-

And I was not present where I was.

I need to be here, right now, for me.

I need to be held in my strong arms until my biceps sweat from my body heat,

I need that peace that only I can bring and I need that peace today, not tomorrow-

Because the very notion of tomorrow trivializes the very existence of my present day.

Mundane

It takes two to box but I rest soundly in my reluctance to raise my hands praying it’ll bloom into outright refusal,

I’m no wolf’s deer and find no interest in-

my antiquated sensibilities being feasted on what I would consider otherworldly practices of the split tongue,

Of the modern woman,

Less older than young,

I’d sooner digest my cellphone before arguing with an enemy too enraptured by their own statements-

Faceless fate-less break-neck hatred crammed inside a-

Scary boxy waistless body that flaunts having no patience the same way a pig dances covered in his own shit.

My traditions crank the gears of my social engines,

My history greases the bolts of my vocal hinges-

So that I can remain irrelevant to those mundane and Heaven-less.