wake up

I want to wake up kicking and screaming. To know that my blood is pumping through my veins. I wanna be a high endurance body wash that radiates freshness on an unsuspecting world of sloth. Of course things don't work out the way you plan... like you have control of how each cell reacts.... like a person can embrace the decline of the human condition and task themselves to fix it. I want to sit on a street corner and play guitar for the masses... watch their pity-filled faces flick quarters at me.... smiling with their faces, and hating with their eyes. I want to eat and drink the blood of a creator who longs for more than a religion club that meets in a potpourri filled building once a week. I want to open my eyes and see for the first time, the treasure in a bird at flight; a fly on the wall; a rat in a cage. Who am I to say what is beautiful and true. All I can do is my lot, my place, my song. I can shout my opinion from a stoop in downtown kalamazoo, but it only goes as far as my checking account. I could be something... I will be something... I mean, come on, the mere fact that I am typing now says I am SOMETHING (Thanks Decartes!) But I could be something else. I could change into a lion at any time! or a kitten... or a mongoose.... or a hungarian bird of pray.... who knows! Nevertheless, the something I am becoming or am or will be is perpetually in a state of utter transition. Until the day I can ring out the sludge of the sloth within, here I sit in front of my computer writing meaningless words into the datasphere. I want to wake up kicking and screaming...