What a time to be alive

Last poem i wrote -
What a time to be alive.
To go back to the 30s so i can wear dressess under my kness, make perfect waves in my hair
And lips red enough.
To dance on the floor like it’s mine and empty, until legs start to shake.

It’s time to forget
That poetry does not rhyme with happiness,
That for someone the bench under the bridge is a hotel with five stars,
Let go the reponsibilities in the pile
From fear that they’re steps forward, ahead from us.
Leave the black-white movie on tv
To lead us along the spiritual timeline,
And to stay in bed all day,
Eating crispy cookies.

It’s damn good time to take the navigator in our hands,
Just to push it further.
To make across our paths with eyes closed,
Without plans and reminders.
Because those who are afraid of wandering are always lost.

It’s time to love loudly.
To exist together. As a whole.
I loved once too.
When i was too selfish to share my love with the padlocks on the bridges, so i kept them somewhere on the bottom on the wardrobe.
When we searched anxiously in the lexicons on the shelf,
But we couldn’t find a word that would fit us perfectly.
Always asked simultaneously for a meaning in our sentences,
Flow with answers on yet not set questions,
Modeling us aesthetically without curiosly to peek in our souls.
Because of the time we are running of - we would say. Better to know.

I was self- contradictory to my time theory
That is a concept we invented by ourselves so we can put things in order,
But in every next sentence i could catch myself using the words -
Yesterday. Last year. Before 2 months on this day. I should have. Maybe.

And when was the last time i lived for today?
It’s time to live.
Because time makes no sense if we lose it in “Today”.

Oct 11, 2015