Boogers: The sum of all parts.

That’s all I thought I had to say but there must be more. No period is weighted heavily enough not to allow stragglers. I sometimes feel that way, like a straggler, forgetting if I missed the bus or if the bus missed me. I miss enough when I stare too long at lifeless shadows that trick me into cognition. Cognition – what a funny word that is, it’s the ignition of thought, left it right by the credenza and never really cared it was gone. I’ve got too many dreams to be awake and afraid. I let them leak out of my pores and drip into the sewer. So I can’t get it done – that’s what the voice says, I’d have to believe at least the sentiment, but death is a scream in the far distance and I’m just not ready for that, for yellow, for blank pages with nothing but yearning for surrender, for parties with ghosts, no, that’s not for me, not yet. I’d rather feel the warmth of bodies and the sun finding it’s way on my skin, a map, a jagged rock in the knee to remind us life is pain and joy, it’s alive, it’s ice cream and creativity and too full of activity to be dreading what’s around the corner. I have to speak as if the soul gives dividends to the winners. I love centering what’s in the catch-all brain as if it was the pen that wrote the Universe book. I love breathing the sky as if we are the lungs that power the wind. I love love, and its many dresses. I can’t speak for only myself, I’m not a maniac, I’m a small man with an appetite, I will live like my life depends on it. It does, I wasn’t born with a clue, I found it under the rug of my lonely infinity. Someone said, “why don’t you just make sense for once?” – when did that ever do me good? Production, capital, how many fruit did you pick today? You test tube boy? You teacher’s pet, martial law indoctrinated. We’re all here together right? Grab a glass, pour a full and unforgiving pour to your neighbor, two sips, pass to the right, repeat – I think we’ll be okay.