shake the dust

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for the ones who are told to speak only when spoken to, and then are never spoken to
speak, every time you stand so you do not forget yourself; do not let a moment go by that doesn't remind you that your heart beats nine hundred times a day,

and that there are enough gallons of blood to make you an ocean;

do not settle for letting these waves settle, and for the dust to collect in your veins

because just like the days, i'm burning at both ends:

we are junkies, and one-kiss poems, and we cry The Stars!, as we write our scars into dumpsters and electric boxes, because the only thing we can hear is our hearts, and the only one listening is the street, and the blood that bleeds through the lives we lead...something that i never saw, what all of us wanted and what none of us got: what we all had and have and we all forgot, that we all wanted to be something, that we all became something, and it may not be the shit that you once thought you'd be when we were kids, but something is still something.  and like some cats say, something's better than nothing. feet are smarter than an engine. and dreams are stronger than thighs, and questions are the only answers we need to have to know that we are as alive as the time when i had the mind of a child asking, why is two plus three always equal to five? where do people go to when they die? what made the beauty of the moon, the beauty of the sea, did that beauty make you, did that beauty make me? will it make me something? will i be something? am i something? and the answer comes - 

already am, always was, and i still have time to be. 

(anis mojgani)

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