Anytime I'm on deadline

for something society deems important

my psyche says

 

"Nope- we're having an existential crisis

so now's the time to shut down

 

we should go to europe

we should get a job

we should write songs

or make movies

or re-try other such past failures

 

after all

some of your idols

are songwriters and movie makers

we should do like them

some of your idols

live in london

we should live in London too

some of your idols

live in california

we should live in California

some of your idols

live in chicago

we should live in Chica-

oh wait, we tried that

we failed

remember

REMEMBER

REMEMBER?!?!?!?!"

but I digress

 

now

while we're on deadline

and have less than an two hours

to write three papers

indeed now is the time

to go running into your mothers room sobbing

"I would've traded all the good of last semester

for some artistic fulfillment

but I still don't have it"

 

and she says

"oh don't worry

I still don't have artistic fulfillment"

and I don't know how to respond

since she doesn't even identify as an artist

she doesn't make art anymore

and she doesn't see that as a big deal

whereas if I were her age

unable to make art

I'd feel worse than dead

 

she says

"be a teacher instead"

and that seems so unfathomable right now

helping children pursue their passions

and shepherding them into their destinies

when I'm stumbling over my bloody own

 

and I sprawl out

and cry to whatever star guides me

"why can't I know where to go"

but I know

going anywhere wouldn't help

until the tempest in my heart

at least calms to it's usual preternatural ebb and flow

 

and gifs of Janis Joplin

on tumblr tell

"Come to California"

and Broadway belts lovingly

"Come to New York"

while my cousin

refuses jobs

that'd fly her all over the world

for free vacations

just to wine and dine some philanthropists

 

and I see beloveds

thriving

and rooting themselves to new families

all the while

it's two in the morning

and I'm writing my usual bad poetry