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.
