The Perpetual Motion of the Stagnate Life

The airport has been my buddy,

The passengers around me…

varied degrees of annoying,

for which I thank God for the Ipod,

and my ability to convincingly

pretend to sleep.

Service to others

has been my occupation

as of late.

It brings me joy to be useful

to others, but

leaves me wondering…

when am I going to be

useful to myself?

I have been

living out of a suitcase,

leaving piles of miscellaneous

crap from my previous trips

on the floor,

and I fear my life

got thrown in one of those piles.

I keep myself busy.

I have things to do.

People to talk to, to help.

Words to write.

Images to create.

My body is moving all

the time.

My heart arrhythmia acts out

as proof of my motion.

My life is stagnate.

I feel as if I am looking for that path

that was made for me to

stumble along,

but I can’t see the small cliff

I am about to fall off of.

I am claustrophobic in my own life,

but I am positive that soon,

very soon,

My life will be going faster

than I believe I can handle.

Until then,

I will be useful,

I will smile,

I will write,

I will breath in the fact

that I have support and love,

and I will work toward spreading

that as far as I can.

My life may not be moving,

but my heart is skipping around

my ribcage.