in the fullness, this old amygdala will finally get fixed
and some theocratic regulation will find its way into the mix
I won’t be flying high on endorphins, brain producing dope
just oxytocin my D.O.C., as you and I draw close
I used to be a jetsetter. China. Thailand. Minneapolis. L.A.
this generativity vs. stagnation stage has got me stayed
got me lying on the floor, hoping for a reprieve in my young age
from the drivenness that’s got me sore,
from the motivation that’s got me plagued
I went out for the protest / but I didn’t pause to confess
our march diverse and immersed among a variety of hues
but despite my goodwill, I’m still sitting in homogeneous pews
I want to disolve into some dough....like a pinch of yeast
minister behind a curtain….like a levite priest
feast my eyes on the trees growing out of my own street
smiling and crying with my neighbors until my eyes are creased
we were once a dry sponge put to the grunge of a rusty old door
our good-intentioned and ill-will expunged only by the Lord
we had hoped to be wrung out...and then somewhat adored
we had hoped to have been cleaned ourselves by the corroded pores
but now I’m ready for some roots
and I’m ready to be fifty
to sink into some saggy skin that will finally fit me.
to look down at the ground, and find that I still have feet
to look down at the ground and find that its holy
to sit at your feet, instead of setting the table
Jesus, I am weak, I can only wave sabals
take me across the border, you’re the good coyote
through the desert, against the law, to the land that I wanna be
cuz the feistiness of self-righteousness isn’t all that becoming
I’ll be the quietest quietest to make up for all this gunning
to be the brightest little light at the start of the day
who’s gonna wear that starry crown? Oh Lord, show us the way
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