You are the home I point to that lives in my chest.

The future gets no say in who we are.

If I didn't have so much of this life all wrong I would have gotten it right by now.

If you've never been rocked back by the presence of purpose this poem is too soon for you. Return to your mediocrity, plug it into an amplifier and rethink yourself.

I am standing like shoe polish on an overstocked shelf hoping that one day someone will pick me to make things better.

We can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost.

...others, with halos shaped like rollercoasters you'd stand in line to ride twice.