process.

my lips are chapped for the first time in two years
and i have a fire in my belly
it's that nervous
anticipation,
and it's creeking, calling,
singing,
telling me that everything will
be okay
and everything will be just fine.
there's this painted piece of wood
and it's staring me in the eyes
telling me that i should do it
maybe I will
maybe i'll do it.
but you're fast asleep
as your days are whipping by
and blowing your hair into your face.
and i can't bring myself to tell you again
that you need
to wake up.
because everything is okay.
everything
is okay.
so patience.
progress; progress.
a constant change of pace
let yourself climb.
and a voice is calling
my name
from the hallway.
an unfamiliar recognition.
progress=progress
i'm going
i'm going to do it.