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The Art of Being Me

 

The art of Being Me

Blowing out the side walls of the heart.

Walking through the rubble.

Examining the dust and rubble.

This is not a love story.

This is a renovation story.

One year and many days from last November.

There was a tragic accident.

My heart was broken.

Then I felt it would take six more years to find this feeling again.

I like to believe my heart will stop racing someday.

I am breaking down walls in my heart just for reconstruction.

Getting ready for you.

Rapidly speeding thoughts and emotions.

I believe this is a manic moment.

Manic moments are the best.

Creativity spews from my essence.

One day my heart will stop beating.

But my essence, my creativity will live on in my offspring.

The only thing I fear about them being me.

I fear them being me.

Manic, wild, creative, live wires just like me.

So about that reconstruction, it cannot wait.

Maybe just a moment, so I can rest my mind.

Maybe I will just sip on some time.

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