Poetry and Other Human Things
I am living, breathing, happening.
I think we’re terrified of being forgotten. I think that as soon as an ounce of intelligence entered our being, our first instinct was to scratch walls and make art out of sharp sticks and stones; We wanted it to be known that we were here.
So here we are: trying to make it become something other than our own coffins at the end of this journey.
I dream of falling. I’m greedy for weightlessness, Even if it is just for a second. I dream of stepping off of places so high They tower over you. I want to look down and see How the sunsets see us- Tiny blobs of something That does not resemble us. To take a step and…
so maybe there will be no coming of age. maybe there will be no moment, signifying glory; hell, maybe there will be no glory. maybe we’ll simply be two people who were here and then weren’t. the gods will not line up moments for us to scavenger hunt our purpose; maybe we will not have…
The internet is done connecting us. If you’re reading this you already have the information about the entire world and beyond at your fingertips. As far as the human timeline goes, this is the most connected we have ever been. Everything beyond this point is a frantic effort to see what else can we do,…
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anikaness