this life is being documented

with recycled surfaces and oil paints

with fingers and hands

and courage and spirits.

this life is being documented with every shedding and every song sung sadly in bathtubs.

this life is being documented in phones, in poems, in photographs from stolen cameras, in sunshine and rain.

this life is being documented in sheets and grime

in laughter 

in-between the lines

in late nights 

on wood

on walls

this life is being documented

no special scent, no sentiment, no rudiment

we don’t forget 

that we are hovering,

some deep space

forgettable,

this life.

we are just moments in this slag

just swimming in this,

captivated with our own reflections

searching for our own reflections

loving our own reflections.

WAKE UP!

morning comes,

more hours lay ahead

behind,

a flash of what will never 

a flash of yesterday.