the other night: on failures

my heart pumps october red blood through my veins. i function. i am a biological, fleshy peach machine. i'm this human who does humanly things with eyes that shine like a freshly washed car. my arms hang like puppy ears sometimes when i'm tired, and also my head on days when everything is gray. sometimes i forget - that i'm human an di do human things and that's okay. not always okay, but never entirely preventable. leaves do leaf things - and wind does wind* things. and that's okay. relationships are messy.











* i can never feel the wind of change
i only see the smoke in the distance shift
sometimes i know its time for different
just by instinct
but sometimes i need a tangible rerouting.