Whatever
Simple are the words thrown around
All while complicated corners of the mind yell
The heart drops, splits, and pours out to every distal part
of the body.
The abstract becomes more conscious and clear
And the amusement of easiness becomes the new bore
Your whatever you want to call it is always whatever,
And your never is always whatever it is…
Whatever it is that moves us to where we are supposed to be;
scratch that one or two times, and test your sense of humor
against his
Get a drink and sit in a chair and see what hits you
in the face.
Maybe you’ll feel the guilt of never saying
whatever it was you needed and wanted to say.
Maybe a religious experience will oddly occur during an
awkward prayer
And you’ll stumble across something you were never even
Looking for.
Or maybe you never find whatever it is you were looking for
in the first place.
It has been a long time since our last assignation
And I fear that whatever you felt for me is no longer
there.
There is no way to romanticize this moment we casually and
constantly find
ourselves in
Trying to repel the distance between the brokenness which is
shared
Only to return to the
recklessness of despair and selfish repair
The telling is in the touch, while the touching will always
tell
If nothing could be something or if something could be dead.
Looking out the window as the sprinkler hits the glass
I am reminded of how circular it all really is in the scheme
of
things
The new becomes old but the old never becomes brand new
Like recycled shoes that end up in a third world country
You begin to realize how important whatever it is –is
The clock suddenly moves in accordance to things of
importance
Yet the irrelevant intrigues the slightest suggestions of
comfortability
You find yourself dwelling on the nonsense that only drags
You deeper into the
“whatever it is”…
You begin to witness life in freeze frame images that
quickly
pass you by
Taking in every breath with a new thinking as to where the
ocean meets the sky
Every step becomes softer, and every word becomes a dessert
that you wish you
would have had twice…
The empty willingness to wake up to a new day still
surprises
the strongest of
minds
As we long for a new wind to blow in and rescue us from
whatever it is we
try to escape
The cold room we find ourselves in today, is telling to all
who came to hear the
message
As the eyes of many focus on a stone which carries the
familiar last name,
You begin to realize the “whatever it is” didn’t pass you
by,
But is waiting for
you to make it what it will be.
-Clay
Cumbie (2010)
