Anticipation

They laughed hard,
but I wasn't joking.
I really do consider one static year 'settling down.'
The hilarity of my accidental joke to them...
shocked me.

How differently we view the world.
I, whose sense of staying shifts just like my breathing.
And they whose house and job like walls
keep out the messy doubts of drifting.

We live on different planets.

Every day here, I feel more like a cruelly wizened outcast.
Stable jobs smell like prison cells to me.
But oh, for a reliable paycheck... maybe a shred of benefit.

We are told to live to work!
To get that awesome job and be enslaved.
Work to live, and you'll be punished.
Who are you to demand flexibility.
Pitted against each other,
gotta do better.
I'll work longer hours,
I'll never smell the flowers.

*I Sigh Alot At Planes*
Every piercing picture on my idle computer screen,
maims my fading memory...
reminds me of a dream,
that really happened.

This coulda been foreseen.
With such anticipation for such fleeting freedom,
I was an explosion.
Sprinting simultaneously in twenty-two directions.
And wound up right where I began...
with no less mysteries to understand.

It's nice to have a home that isn't a hostel.
I need this year to settle.
But I'll be off again,
just waiting for a change in wind.