Seized.

Soon
I will fight
For work
I am over
Or under
Qualified for
And don’t care
Much about
Either way
But will do
Because
It is work.

Not today.

I will soon
Get creative
And find new methods
With which
To pay rent
And fill gas tanks
That move
Should-be retired
Public transit vehicles.

Not today.

In the coming days
Weeks
Months
Quarters
Decades
Centuries
I will drag myself
To a job
That my heart
Is no longer in.

Not today.

Today
I am battered
By pacific gusts
That muss up coifed hair
And lift vibrant kites
And shove sailboats
Into choppy blue water.

Today
That
Which is
Weighed down
By data
Or digital
Or social
Or trending
Or exposure
To frequencies
That may
Or may not
Slowly kill us all
Falls around me
And tries
To take me down
With it.

Not today.

Today
I spill over
With something other
Than technological progress.

Today
I unplug.

Today
I am the dog
That barks
All the way
To the park.

Today
I am the worm
That plays
In the mud
And digs holes
To what
May as well be
The soul
Of mother earth.

Today I wander
Aimed [not less]
Anew
And without
A calendar
To dictate
Where I will be
And when I will be there.

Today
I take back
The hours.

Today
The grass
Is green and vast.

And I don’t
Want to hear
What shade
Of green
It is
On the other side.

Not today.

Today
I am on this side.

And on this side
The green
Is the happiest
It has been
Since
It was cut down.

Today
The other side
Can go fuck itself.

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