winter seedling

in every picture of me my face has two facets, one soft and sweetly sparkle-eyed and the other
dark with an eye rimmed in aubergine staring straight ahead,
split on a seam like an ancient totem,
i don't know how i seem to constantly exist in dichotomic states;
dreaming and knowing everything

i am often desperate to document myself but cannot ever seem to muster the strength to hold up opposing opinions at once. i want to sing an opus of my division and torsion, how i was born a human and an animal but belong in neither world, i don't want children of my own but my earth says Raison d'être, you know,
each month the moon rips the carpet out from under and re-invents me, boys can you even imagine,
and my nose that angles out handsomely can't smell worth a shit next to another creature's, though scent is so rooted in everything we both experience,
why is my life sometimes consumed by desire to eat ravenously then puke it all out tearful euphoria (dear everyone: don't worry, not practicing); why does my heart sometimes take over a-beating and keep me inside,
it's rough to be a wound-up little bio-robot in a dying world, with first-world problems numbing and hog-tying, with this life of hard training to make you like me no matter what,
i don't mean to be so angsty and fatalistic but i have tiny secret self-truths and one is that I soothe myself by saying I will be dead just before the end of things, alive just long enough to see the dusty whipping coat-tails of industry and elephants before it all tanks, it's been tanking solid so long. every generation feels this way, but don't you have this inkling that we are truly the fucked.
i see weird microcultures of hope. i see our overpopulation regulating itself with sweet gays and folk like me, sensitive but with a maternal desire over-satisfied by small companion mammals and art while pregnancy/human babies have sounded since i can remember to be most gross. i see the planet in a constant state of healing, ms. mama forever.

this might all be stoner bullshit but this is me trying to give voice to what my life has to say, it is a work that needs a form i haven't found yet but my need to start gathering the pieces is grrreat.