Break away from the rigid mold that is yourself.
Slip through the cracks that questioned those who told you,
Who you could be or how you felt.
I don’t make the best choices, and neither do you.
Mistakes feel like a fracture in my bone,
I know you feel it too.
Imagine if we lived in a world where
We were truly allowed to be who we really were.
We’d be various auras, we’d be various colors,
We’d be various times.
We’d be many—all the types of love,
And hate that only we could understand.
I’d be viscous multi-colored stuff,
A mashup of emotions,
Language barriers and preconceived notions
That ooze everywhere.
So, it wouldn’t matter, because of everyone else,
I am everyone else, and they are me, and myself.
This means that every part of me should connect
With every part of the next human down the street,
Who never even knew what love was growing up.
This should mean that every part of me should connect
With every part of the person that you once swore you hated,
One you once never deviated from.
I guess I’m just trying to say that once every part of every fiber,
Of the very being of my core connects with this Guy and the next girl,
We would never know words like hate,
Or hurt or kick or flight, or war or spoil,
Or water or soil, or time zones,
Or words, or sentences—
—for there would be no laws,
Or good or bad, or high or low,
Or old or young.
There would be no time,
There would be a strong timeline made up of the microseconds,
Of every second, of every minute,
Of every song, of every lifespan,
Of every generation every century, of every era.