in pursuit of holy mangos

an uncharted soul will drive you anywhere,

transform your heart to a peacock feather,

fan the flames in your amorphous eyes,

while your mind collapses spontaneously into back flips.

tell me, is oasis one of those truthful lies? 

do we ever learn to walk amidst tidal waves? 

or does this water just continuously tumble through us?

I want to know if a decision breaks me or creates–

if the splinters of me thrive best scattered, among alien lifestyles.

I walk until I shrug,

until my feet become oversaturated in dirt and my hair consumed with tangles,

my heart’s pocket book filled only with gratitude. 

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