a funeral.

i wear all black in various fabric patterns.

without even realization or notice of my internal mourning.  

this can’t be my funeral-

i demanded the color black be banned, only eccentric color schemes permitted. 

the day has come where i’m cheating on my younger self.

who never imagined weddings, families, or houses.

but only visioned a life among skyscrapers and the craft. 

my future involved only that isolated image.

no hypothesis of any other outcome.

i have betrayed my compass once before,

never believed it would be twice now.

destiny is entirely muddy,

mixed with all that water and dirt.

just as they say- when it rains, it pours.

my compass now points me to a destination,

i planned on conquering with a soulmate.

gut reactions killed off my romantic plan.

gut reactions killed off my ego.

my intentions on being the perfect american dream dressed in white

dissolved into a grey ash. 

on this day, i no longer find any interference in my life.

i get so worked up about making my younger self proud,

i never once worried about ensuring my future self lives the same essence.

only when i was stripped from any notion of recognition,

i built the courage to jump. 

some people never change, numerous transform.

comparable to jekyll and hyde- unrecognizable. 

uncertainty of humans has become my itching purgatory.

that heightens my alarm toward strangers greatly. 

the people i begged most to change, never could.

while, my whole spirit within one year's time morphed into a new ensemble.

without a force or plead or forgiveness. 

speaking the word “courage” naturally lifts our certainty.

seizing my own confidence, i was left to run free

pattering along those green street signs

i first saw when i only knew of big houses on golf courses

and late night parking lot meetings.

living again as a child capturing every frame in a wide lens.

animated for the first time for my revision.

what goes up must go down,

my eyes grow wide when fear hits like a dagger.

what if nothing changes.

all of my personal imperfections and shortcomings

could have slipped into my checked luggage.

i can run away, but there’s no guarantee of a true escape

from the parasite harvesting in my consciousness.

but, never to worry!

how about we focus on grieving!

let's postpone our insecurities for another date.

my identity has transitioned, maybe not died entirely.

i always find ways to surprise myself- 

that quality will never see a death date,

will never see a funeral.