Good DAy

You know I'm feeling good when I have enough time and gumption to do a little something on here.

Woman

Girls are the cause of the movement
and the rushing and the trampling

I've learned to wait out the feeling
of certain uncertainty

can it be that the
whole world has something i can't see

I wonder if the pushing and the running
is to see my ancestry, in a window into the past

hubbling around I found that window on my own
a voyeuristic peep into the unknown

the darkness is like a tar that sticks to my mind
a virus that drips through your timeline

where the seconds and minutes and year are nothing
except for a black ash liquid, and when I see a face

it's quick to turn from a baby to a woman
to a bone blackened mass, a woman without a past

now tasking out the scope I am telling
has sights and sounds, but I'm not smelling

what it's like to be in that past little space
does it smell of rain or asphalt or devil chocolate cake?

Oh I see now. it smells of burning hair and a field of lavender
it's like burning an incense stick of the darkest blackness

the deepest darkest blackness