Number Three

Today is the eighth day.
I told myself I'd write poems everyday during these seventeen days leading up to internship.
So far, I have written only two.
I'm going to write one more.

I know I listen to melancholic music.
Melancholic, not sad,
Because being alive has no lack of drama.
Even the conservative know that.
Nothing is ever sophisticated,
When we know we are equals.
I know I am born with eyes that are defocused,
With a heart that harps all too much,
With a wanting to take the short cut - to cut.
Of course I have cried knowing I am merely me.
To be so painfully human sickens me,
To give pain to others defiles me,
To remember pain helps me to grow builds me.
Why do we need to live to understand facets of "me",
Why can't we float?
Why can't we be immortal?
I know I listen to melancholic music.
Melancholic, not sad,
Melancholia, not sadness,
Because being alive has no amount of forgiveness.
Someone told me the air we breathe is corrosive in nature,
Where is forgiveness in that?

This makes it three.
Then four, which Ken and I are going to collaborate on to use for a video :)
I wish it were cold out today, wish it were freezing.