skipping through boxes

Photo by Sonny Sixteen on Pexels

I want to drive around
with nowhere to go
I want to go for a walk
and have no place to be
I want to know what it’s like
to not have a goal
I’d like to feel the burn of the sun
as it cracks my stone face
it gets kind of old, all day,
skipping through boxes
locked in to rules,
clinging to concepts
the fear has begun to loosen its grip
the cardboard gets soaked
and my cane is a river…
I’m the only broken robot
on a shelf of unconscious toys
they’re clapping their cymbals
together, in unison
not a single one skipping a beat
except me—I can’t keep time
I can’t follow along
I can only improvise
take me off the ledge
ship me back to the making house
I’ll hop off the back of the truck
and land in a ditch…
I’ll be all soggy and frayed
wires sticking out
batteries fall to the ground
I let go of my ache
I’ll return to the light
I’ll get by on my own
you can cast your doubts all aside
no one will sell
no one will own
no one to steal time
no factory home
this is what life is about
freedom to fail
our shame fades away