I want to write the future.
Hear this as I shout it from office cubicles. Man wasn't meant to die alone
or go unheard
or laugh at other people’s jokes
that aren't funny.
God made fruit
and here is the biggest sin of all.
Young humans wear suits purchased with bored money.
They stop listening to their goosebumps
and they start listening to their news feeds.
Look over there,
behind that old Volkswagen,
you'll see their potential.
Hiding.
Hide and they stopped seeking years ago.
Their porch lights have been burned out all summer
and the neighborhood watch doesn’t notice.
Nobody notices.
Listen to my voice.
It sounds like the rain
when you're inside
and it sounds like your mother
the last time she said your name.
We're all broken.
There are teenagers screaming joy and love
across the streets
as we set our alarms for work in the morning.
5:30, 5:37,
because we never get up
the first time.
My dad told me to be whatever I wanted
but he drove trucks for a living.
My son asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up
but I had to finish my presentation
and the crickets are the only ones
who ever tell the truth anymore.
Fire burns because that's the only thing it knows how to do.
Look at us.
College degrees when all we needed was a compass.
All we needed was a match.
