lack of

paradise

i've got two dice in my mouth,
simply trying to pick a side.
two numbered cubes won't tell where my future will go.
essential doom won't show itself through a crystal ball.
isolation doesn't shine in the white sunlight.
a couple shots to my mouth won't do anything but make my feet a bit lighter.
board game pieces melt within the thick folds of my mind.
and cheap cardboard won't ever be enough to give me the warmth i need from a good conversation.
two dice in my hands, each paired with the choice of the everlasting future or the ever terrifying present.
numbered cubes giving me the infinite number of choices that i have to choose from.
words that are spoken but sound like trigonometry.
phrases put together to be marked down a few points for not being a complete sentence.
numbers make as much sense as the three dollar bills i have in my pocket,
none of them are coins.
i want to dig up the probabilities from the past,
to clarify the choices and outcomes i have now.
the green pair of dice won't always have the blue undertone that they have now.
i won't always be able to see the splendid colors everything once was.
i won't always be able to see why this die has the number twenty seven on it.
i don't really know what it means.
choking on the sounds from a calculator,
and eating too much pie.
an uneven ratio like my cold, blue funk divided by my warm face in the sun.
improper speaking when addressing the darkness on the ceiling of my room.
mixed feelings about the crack in my dresser that holds too many life stories for a six sided die to hold.
paradise was always some far off land filled with light green leaves and clear water lakes.
where there was no room for sharp rocks,
where none were all that bold.

November 20th, 2019