the colors are warm and moody

the tunes are soul

the company is cultural

my mood is neutral

my hair a curly mess

my attitude strong

yet i feel creativity weak

i need warming up

I'm a lukewarm leftover

not that appetizing

no worries

you just need to ignore the pressure

and flow along like an Italian singer

me Italian

i need to be daring

i need to be original

i need to stop trying

i need to escape the pressure of cool

the pressure of in

the pull of it

it is kind of like riding a bike

putting on an old pair of shoes

seeing your grandmother

you remember who you are and all of a sudden you are yourself again

be a lion

be a savior

be a giant

or a leper you can choose

free verse flows

it allows you to go places that you may be surprised.

like opening up a gift

and finding a snake

or finding an owl

wide eyed and wise

i am surprised by the comfort of solitude

i thought it would sting

but it sooths

i imagine a bell

with dirty engraving

i can't quite make out the words but i can hear it toll

beautiful and clear in the frigid air

i imagine a dog

shaggy and matted

it is a friendly mutt

he slobbers on my pant leg and nudges me for pets

i pat his head

not knowing how loved he really feels

do they ever know how loved they make us feel?

in a perfect world they will know

and there will be no misunderstandings

i image a door

it is a matte yellow color

like corn

it is half open

and i can hear laughter

i want to enter but i don't know if i will be welcomed

are we ever truly welcome?

it seems that questions emerge in the solitude

as i join the ranks of philosophical stragglers

those who lag behind the main stream

that have long before me and will long after muse and question

pondering the ever present just beyond our consciousness