i really am.
trying to hunker down and focus
at a time
i'm trying to be productive in the face of....of what i don't know.
the undertow of empirical collapse i suppose.
but its much more than that.
i'm trying to laugh deep and loud at any laughable opportunity
keep my eyes on the horizon while storing away tidbits of hope.
bit and pieces might build a ship that'll sing along the surface.
all around me my friends are treading water.
my mother is treading water.
my siblings scrambling without sleep to make ends meet.
sometimes sinking then flailing around with that stubborn need to breath
to expand against the prevailing force.
overextending the quelling of panic cuz panic does no good.
it uses up precious energy and air.
air that could be saving lives
air that could be
laughter sometimes forced upon tears because it feels different than grief.
doesn't weigh as much.
air that could be singing
"a working class hero is something to be
a working class hero is something to be..."
could be singing it over
could be singing called a shout
in this battle to remain at all optimistic about our lives in the changing of suns
amidst the crumbling ravenous flailing of war soaked humanity i touch base
with other struggles and try to absorb it without sinking.
try to shake off the weight without losing the love.
throw love toward the horizon a rope to hold tight to and stay up here with the oxygen laughing and shouting a song.