At this moment, I feel sane.
Sane comes and goes
Sane collapses like a waterfall
And witnessed by those
Who soak like a sponge
The first blink of an eye in the morning.
And now I need a planner to organize my thoughts.
Why are we here?
Structure my life in tabs.
Insert this thought next to rhyme
Someday I will look back and think,
“what was that all about?”
It has its proper place
Like art sandwiched in a museum
Purchase a ticket, admire from afar
And disengage long enough to consider
What restaurant we will dine at this evening.
When will I be happy?
Disassemble the sputtering engine
Before the greasy wheel drives any further
It’s a vehicle destined for the junkyard
Before it even rolls from the dealership
These legs can’t carry me further
The trunk is too full
And the baggage I stuff into suitcases
Require a helicopter of lofty aspirations
To lift from the ground
And transport me to my next State of emotion.
Who am I, on any given day?