at this point,
i can’t afford
to not live and just die.
i’ve invested too many late nights,
diversified the portfolio of my life
and made many deposits
in wells of joy and accomplishment.
i don’t care about the low economy and foreclosure.
i wish someone would tell me
that my life is not valuable enough to appreciate
if you knew how often i am on the brink of falling
and not being saved;
or if you knew of how often i have dreamt
of sleeping in my grave,
you too would be celebrating
the years i walk here.
i travel barefoot and dirt from cracks and pebbles
stick in my soul,
making my journey more treacherous,
but still i go,
trekking though life as if i were on a hike
through mountains of personal discovery.
maybe at the snow-covered peaks,
i’ll discover me–
me that i can only see
in between daylight and night.
i am only evident in the beauty of twilight
because despite my armor of control,
i got holes in me like fishnet stockings:
pretty on the outside but they let the cold in.
appear like one that is unified from far away,
but up close you can see
that my knees and ankles are ashy.
style can only take me but so far
and so can life,
but either way i hope that i’ll wake up each day
and have another chance to withdraw from the bank of yesterday
and invest the lessons and blessings
in accounts of tomorrow that will grow