Going blind staring at the horizon
waiting for my ship to come in.
Stranded on an island originally planned as a vacation
from a rectilinear existence bound by margins and angles
Drawn by the call of the wild
this shaggy crusoeder craves the familiar face of fast food and convenience.

They say that which does not kill you makes you stronger
but i’ve grown to dislike the taste of distilled salt water and
the thrill of the chase
doesn’t erase the wounds and the scrapes
The bitter taste of the one that got away.
The stressful day that led to a hungry night
The mental fatigue of cultivating faith in oneself in the face of adversity.

Penning optimistic messages in bottles,
thrown to oceans like unaddressed love letters.

Sleep is only the cousin of death if you forget to dream
and I will pound reams of palm paper
writing letters to loved ones
explaining that I truly am ok
until i finally begin to believe it.

This is my ablution, my purifcation ritual, my morning coffee, my metro paper, my evening news.

My muse lives in the mirror of my mind
and it’s only narcissism if and when you fall in.
Until then it’s meditative introspection.
Profound reflection.
Searching for sparks in extinct campfires
in hopes of finding the ember that will ignite  a blaze of glory
that would darken the sky like rain cloudy smoke signals
announcing  the presence of that which will ultimately yield a bountiful harvest.

I don’t have the luxury of complacence or the common sense to accept defeat.  
Each setback brings appreciation teaches a lesson
like touching a hot stove
grants the knowledge of the difference between danger and power

Each me note breathed alone brings one closer to an our.

and i don’t have enough time to worry about the things i’ve left behind
the opportunities passed by
for I refuse to hide from the sun, shading eyes from brilliance
so as to better appreciate mediocrity.
Should my sight fail, I will make sure to learn braille.
Raised dots for razed doubts
Praised thoughts for braved droughts.

Water water all around. 
One has to be lost in order to be found.
And should I die before a lake
without the sight of said ship’s wake
I’ll toast the clouds for their inspiration,
curse them for untimely precipitation and smile
while tracing my name in the coast,
grateful for this extended vacation
and a life lived without my head in the sand.

Surrounded by clowns
We drown in silence of sound
covered in blankets,
We stifle our ability to generate warmth
like chapped lips
grown impotent through daily conditioning.
Loyal listeners soon lose their ability to speak
as headstrong voices overpower the weak
commanding the airspace between ears|
as preprogrammed thoughts and opinions
opinions and thoughts,
are repeated.

One plus one IS two
but there can be no one voice more important and true than you.

Can you hear yourself thinking?
Feel your heart beating?
Are you a ticking time bomb?
A robot wound too tight?
Do you sleep during the day and sleepwalk at night?
Do you dream?
Do you remember what your voice sounds like?
Do you know the color of your mind?
Do you know what is lost, what you’re hoping to find?
Or have you retreated into the warm comfort of a convenient cave?

Content to be blind, uninterested in being brave.
Confined by the times, an existential slave,
chained to the wheel from the cradle to the grave.
Or do you wear shades to protect your eyes from the sun,
from the vampirish gaze of a jealous someone.

Are you a body with mind,
a cultivated soul,
or a shell shocked puppet for another to control?

Are you a pawn or a knight?
A king or a queen,
Do you walk a straight line or zig zag in between.

Are you sick? 
Will your condition worsen?
Or are you a vault of potential
Awaiting disbursement?

Is it too much to ask of yourself to work hard
to prevent your psyche from being passively scarred
to shiver for warmth or manifest internal heat
instead of searching for blanketed external relief. 
For that which is within must match what’s without
For balance ignored leads to implosion, no doubt.

Whether people or pieces,
the moral remains:

Think with positive purpose, it’s only a game.

Walking hand in hand, head in hole,
Craving connection without losing control.
Wanting to have with nothing to give.
A loneliness dies so that a relationship may live.

But what if timing is not quite right, do we walk away and call it a night.
Once exposed to the light of day, can we so easily forget the moon--
Hastily wiping clouds away?

Is it realistic to ignore the fact, that most things are grey--
neither white nor black?
And should we recoil, withdraw, and cringe
when an unexpected color our greyscale does tinge?

Or should we rather appreciate the error
as an anonymous certificate grants joy to its bearer.
Whether or not its exactly what's needed, wanted, desired
must we so in our heads be inextricably mired?

For what is displayed by our third eye's projector
may not exactly match the vision of our celestial director.
And what is the harm of laughing, being entertained,
so long as the strings of our hearts be not strained.

For that which does not kill, only makes us stronger
while nights spent alone are intolerably longer

No man is an island
but this is Manhattan where highrises kiss the sky
and neighbors share little more than addresses.
Greetings are saved for prefabricated cards,
signatures automatically tagged on texts and emails,
grudgingly scribbled on checks for overpriced dinners with underappreciating company
leaving us to wonder whether the mental price of solitude
is worth the actual savings of a night alone
watching other people live lives we are supposed to envy but don't.

flashing lights meant to daze us like deer
while fear creeps up like a mack truck
and steals our wallets
only to use our metrocard to commute to its next victim,
our cash to tip a bartender
who will flirt back, grateful for the opportunity to be a real actress.
We are all playing roles
Some more convincing than others.
more depth, gravitas, hutzpah.
Most uncertain of where the truth lies and the act begins.

Bottom line, all knickerbockers want to win but we don't know how.
Searching for wow we settle for oh.
Surprised by people that fall in our lap like pigeon lunch
only to spend an instant admiring the consistency
before convincing ourselves that poop is not Pollack
and acquaintances are not friends.
sex partners not lovers.
Concrete is not soil and grass does not grow on sidewalks,
Buildings may sprout up like weeds but whom do they feed?
What is the socio-nutritional value
of granite countertops that support carefully mass produced containers of uninventive fast food?
Ethnic or bland.  Expensive or cheap.

We sleep cuz we're tired but do we even dream?
It would seem with all this sleepwalking that we would be well rested
but this is "the city that never sleeps"
so we hustle and strategize even in our beds
yeah it's free but then again we don't get paid.
So what is this thing called leisure?
And when do I get to close my eyes to see
Halle Berry waiting on me with a home cooked meal and tickets to Tahiti or France?

When do I get my chance to escape
without the medication advertised on prime time tv?
Pills that promise sexy bodies.
Websites that promise true love.
Products promise happiness
but basic economics suggests that it's bad business to actually solve your customers problems
cuz then who will buy your services, your product, your bullshit 
but  if there is no shit, there will be no fertilizer for hirise weeds
and all the facilitators will see their pallid faces steeped in fluorescent light
and realize that there's no such thing as magic jelly bean MBA's.
That the dollar dream is really not what it seems
and there truly is no place like home.

And maybe just maybe,
the locals will come out of hiding
and the hopeless will crowd the streets searching in earnest for happiness
and sincere drunk people will laugh until they cry
and hopefully lonely people will not look in their lover's eyes for answers
but run to their arms for warmth.