Feels like the end of a vampire phase
No more last sunsets, only firsts
This morning, this day
Every day is now a first
I try to look at it, to take it in
But too much of a good thing will blind you
The anticipation in the pink and blue
The swelling up of joy from the
Perceived coming experience
That once it peaks over the hills
It’s magestic as fuck
And this poem serves no purpose
Except to be here as a sounding
Board for the first thoughts of
The first morning. The first morning
Sunrise. Is this enough?
I feel like I’m leaving something out
Like how the gold pushes through
The cattail grass as the wind moves
It in a dance. Daybreaking through
The smog to create a new framework
That maybe Los Angeles can be
Heaven, if we fool ourselves into
Believing that the smog is clouds
Clouds that are saving us
And not actually destroying us.
Feeling the irony, as these thoughts
Come as this series is meant to
Save myself from myself.
Feeling the irony as I sit in this
Car to write, a vehicle that is not
Mine. Because I am too cold
To do this on my own. With
The wind and everything else,
The suns rays just aren’t enough.
Niether is my hoodie. So I’ve got
His jacket on, sitting in his
Car. Allow borrowed things to
Start something that is meant to
Help me heal from this past year.
Heal from this past year, heal
From the moment when I’ll have
To turn the keys in, take this
Jacket off, and move forward in
This series, alone.