My Fucking Self Portrait

My day is marked through periods of four minute sounds.
A set of headphones that is so iconically out of date
And crisp cool words that only devotion can lend to the mind build me up.
I'll span generations in an hour with song.
With what's been called a people face
I venture out and find myself in conversations I would prefer to skip,
Never for once thinking they could change my mind.
I accumulate small particles of the world: words, knowledge and places,
That somehow mean something special to me,
Fastening a place in my heart in an instant.
Things I'm already meaning to remember for as long as I can.
I'm young and I assume know everything
Even though I can admit that what I know is just a scrape off the world.
I've found that yoga is the equivalent to sitting in the dark late at night
Just exploring all the parts of my mind I'm afraid to be in
Even though I'll make time to be there.
Even though I've heard that people watching is fun I avoid it.
It's rude to stick your imagination into what seems
To always be someone else's bad day.
I value anything that is simple and fun
And secretly crave mid century American culture.
I walk at a fast pace through my day,
Never stopping to notice the flowers I really don't care about,
Only the likewise fast paced cars
New and vintage.
I have an affinity for swimming,
And any time I can fall deep into the water
And just feel the life beating through me.
When I pass tennis courts I become a rubbernecker.
I'll be the first to tell you that I love everything about Rafael Nadal,
And the fact that I have lost my racket in two moves is disappointing.
I probably smile way too much for my own good and will never realize it.
I'm most pensive on cloudy days
With rain that chokes the fluidity of economy
And lifts my mood to its natural state being a Libra.
Rain stained windows make everything beautiful and important.
I can never wait for jacket season which slowly turns to scarf season.
I hold a grudge against spring for taking me out of my element.
By the time summer rolls around I have already forgotten my fall loves,
Overpowered by summer smells.
I anticipate the shift of each season's airs.
I believe that wars are started by overreacting men
Thinking with the wrong head,
Eloquently covered with lengthy words from congress
Ending in Declaration of War.
The advertisement of peace a hoax,
Watching countries tear at themselves,
Only to see the Olympics grasp at all of us to stay together.
I believe I have missed everything important in the world's events:
Invention of the telephone, World War I, discovery of King Tut, Beatles Mania.
I've seen fads that will barely mark history,
And only a twin tower sized tragedy that teachers endlessly
Told me I would see in textbooks to come.
I've only gotten this far and have thousands of miles before I can say
I've learned something of the world.
Maybe it takes hitting my stride and finding a hidden course full of
To really solidify my place in my four minute time.

September second, two thousand and eight.