Ownership.

Resolutions run out when their effort
outweighs the return on our investment.
For a life founded on the fulfillment of
micro-goals feels more to me like freedom.
As I continue learning, in this chaotic choir practice,
I aspire to always be improving;
evolving into the best version of me.
With integrity acting as the oil spill inside my soul,
I intend to act accountable for me.
Through ownership of the intricacies of my insanity,
I embark on an adventure that explores my energy.
With every instant observed through the lens of gratefulness,
I am here.
I am present.
And simplest yet,
I am.

Polar Plastic Girl.

Working weary palms into a lather,
wrung from havoc wreaked by her hummingbird mind.
A grenade of ghastly hues ground together
until deep jade and forest greens highlighted
each grain of her sandy gaze.

As steeped in symbolism as the burning nun,
society seemed deadset on seeing her become a saintly victim.
With a single violent stroke,
she shed the mask she'd worn that evening,
like a clown deprived of sleep.

A circus acrobat, perhaps, or tight-rope walker;
painted garishly in pancake makeup.
Whatever you desire her to be, she revolts;
repulsed by the men that seek to destroy her with control.

She is the spectator, but also the spectacle!
A sight for sore eyes,
as the paint spilled on her pallette
poured into the pain inside her pageant heart.

Erose.

At the junction of jilted lovers,
where animation intersects with
anxiety, antagazoned until I
explode into an overdose of ennui.