january 23, 2021

the circle of life isn't all it's cracked up to be

whales lives hundreds of years, why not me?

i don't have enough time for everything i'm plotting

but then again, existing is exhausting

if all the world's a stage and all the men and women merely players,

then i don't have a script, i can't wait to exit stage left, and stop being a faker

i'm always wearing a mask, it's easier to think about the past, what i could be

i think about the women that came before me

names on a piece of paper, lovers' names carved into a tree with a razor

money marriages and bloody miscarriages

17th century women with 21st century dreams

i don't walk in the steps of my foremothers, i dance in them

sticking my hands in the soil they farmed in the sun,

crying into the oceans they crossed to get to a new country

entire lines that could end with me

maybe living is worth it but it costs me so much to stay

"you can be anything" they say, but how much does it pay?

and then i stop to think

about how everything we've had together would be gone in a blink

would you cross the ocean for me?

could we play husband and wife conventionally?

run off in a van and sleep under vega and altair, or get a 9 to 5 and healthcare

it doesn't matter to me

so long as our whale song is carved into a tree for eternity

maybe the circle of life could just be you and me