Today I did a somersault

Upon the fresh mown green

The grown-ups would have laughed to see

That silly girlish scene

Today I laughed and sang again

In chorus with the birds

And though it saved my sanity

I hope I wasn’t heard

Today I ran and skipped a ways

Across the grassy lawn

For it felt so good to breathe the air 

This sunny country morn.

Where’s here for you, then?

If now is where it always ends,

the present is forgotten past.

So now is here.

And here is then.

And all these seconds strung across

All these minutes and hours and days.

We grasp for time even while we soak it in.

Never having felt enough.

Never being sated.

Since now is here and here is love,

We live in love now.

It’s us.

In a minute I’ll be all on my own

Nobody to tell me “It’s a cold world so go on grab your coat.”

I’ve got a fear of growing old

because sure this life ain’t much but it’s all I own

and I know what your thinking “but C you’re only 15 years old”

but time goes by fast don’t you know

in 5 years time, I’ll be all grown

I’ll be calling up the bank asking for a loan

wait wait wait slow down you say. “you will be fine, you’ll do great”

but somehow the hate always finds a way to cut me up and murder my faith

Crying is how your heart

speaks, when your lips can't

explain the pain you feel.

So don't laugh

When I cry.

Don't say

I'm like a child.

I just don't know how

to rephrase it.

I feel weak.

That's it.

You offer your help

you ask for my trust.

But why, when I'm at

my weakest point,

do you mock me in disgust?

Don't offer your help

If you're going to judge.

Everyone wants to be

the sun to brighten up

someone’s life.

But why not

be the moon, to shine

on someone’s darkest

hour?

An assidious aspiration and aegis of aligning utter anonymity ad hoc unto aiming at unwraveling anyone and everyone's utterly untapped aptitudes and ambitions. An allusion on an obviously awestriking orchestration of armageddonesque escapades. An aura, an ambiance, encompassing uncollected accolades accrued out of abbreviated adroitness. An audacious attempt at antithesizing and antagonizing otherwise avarice and allowing online atonement at astute ease. An appraisal apropos antipathy against algorithmic alacrity - ad infinitum.

One day, Monkey felt something new. Monkey felt bored. Monkey wandered through the forest. Monkey found a mushroom and ate it. Before long, Monkey felt strange. Monkey’s eyes were seeing funny things. Monkey’s ears were hearing silly sounds. Suddenly, Monkey started cackling uncontrollably. Monkey could not stop laughing at what Monkey realized was the first joke in history:

Word.

Monkey’s guffaw encapsulated the world’s first word, and out of thin air, it no longer seemed so serendipitously absurd - for the cackle was not in fact such but instead much more gravitously momentous, and firm. The gesture was essentially a splatter of mental ink matter upon that edenic canvas of form. The door to explore this infinite floor of untapped lore had been abruptly torn from its hinges. Oranges and bananas were no longer just colors. No, no - they, too, were their own laughs - with different tones and pitches to honor their semantic bones and syntactic image - cutting perceptions in half and multiplying them five times fast.

Monkey was thoroughly fragrant with antianguish -

for Monkey had

heretofore

discovered

language.