When Morning Comes

The appropriate behavior for an original being has been

misplaced in the continuum for the rally of injustices.

Walks to the window don't help anymore.

I have been misplaced upon my arrival, a reckoning

that I can no longer bite down into multiple pieces for

my own digestion.

Do you believe in the power of love?

I'm asked.

I believe in the power of foreplay.

The heaviness that bothers me the most is that

the question still exist.

Old beings still remind me that I am weak

in this timing, more saturated in ripe fruit.

Cold to a degree that meets with summer,

I'm pleasant in my composure, laughing

about how I still answer questions.

I still have talks with myself,

not about the bullshit that death left

behind, but more about the distance between

a poor man and abundance, if that makes sense?

I asked.

A engagement is near.

I'm getting lost in the details

about so-so the incredible feat.

I'm unaverred.