objects in emotion in poetry

my heart is a little boy running
without conception of his destination
or knowledge of when his legs will give out
or when he will be stopped by walls or water

my heart is a little boy running
not knowing when the sun came up
not knowing when its doomed to set
not knowing where he was or where he goes
not knowing if he’s running from
or running to at all

my heart is a little boy running
his earth may curve like ours that
he may run until he dies in motion
his earth may yet be pancake flat
one day just tumble into space
suffocate by utter surprise
he cannot know and
I don’t either

my heart is a little boy running
don’t stop him now
it’s all he’s good at

my heart is a little boy running
it’s all the stupid fucker knows

my heart is a little boy running
through verdant fields and abandoned lots
through surrealist paintings and active warzones
through my blood and veins and very typing fingers
out my mouth and in again
I’ll keep breathing ‘til
I cannot anymore
that’s all

my heart is a little boy running
he is lost beyond his reckoning
there will be nowhere to rest
if the holy idiot ever stops
but long as he keeps going
in motion he is home

my heart is a little boy running
join me
the wind in your hair is really something
it makes you feel like you’re alive
for at least the little while
that we get to be alive and
whatever’s next, well, only
our worn-out shoes will know
we will be gone and we’ll be
gone either way at some point
may as well run
may as well know the feeling

my heart is a little boy running
God bless the twice-doomed idiot
he just knows nothing else

Last updated May 04, 2020