sometimes people surprise you
like when you're crying at an episode of the office
and the first guy you'd call on
to back you up in a fist fight just
smiles, pats your knee, and says he loves you
by not saying anything

just chuckling

because its fucking ridiculous to cry
just because erin found her birth mother
and it was joan cusack
but i am fucking ridiculous
and that was perfect

i cannot feel so many things
that have permeated my mind for so very long
the sorrow of existing
the very weight of my being
seems now like a laughable thought

not that pain is not real
or rather
that the bad that hides behind every
interaction, moment, thought
is no longer there

yes

there is much sorrow in the world
and we all fuck up
tomorrow i will fail myself or someone i love
and tomorrow i will become a better now me

leland p. fitzgerald said
"maybe we're really scared of the good stuff"
and maybe it is inside of us
then we have the opportunity to be
good
all of the time

maybe a character is more real than person
maybe you have the chance to decide

what if there is no G-d?
and it really all sits deep inside you
the act of choosing
will define you long after you're gone

myself
i choose to run headlong at love
i choose to try and make a poem change the world
i choose to know, not believe
that this moment
is above all others
i choose to lay myself bare
on the altar of time, money, effort, sleep, comfort
if only to see about a girl
i choose to hope
and in that hope, for each of us
i choose to never measure the passage of time
and to never know myself by the loss
that time has brought

rather to sit quietly
and know that i am only now

and read the words of wiser men aloud to those i love

"i rapped about eggs recently
i want to write about legs
i want to change everything"

to do as donald miller advised
and stand quietly in the wilderness
reading sonnets to no one

"i'll tell you how the sun rose
a ribbon at a time..."