Rubbery

[gumalicious]

So, okay, yeah, I admit it. I'm not sure if this job is for me. Yeah, sometimes I feel like I am selling people hope and that the Omaha police will not stop being assholes. And yeah, I was offered a job in Iowa City making videos about mental health but turned it down to stay in Omaha, aka Lame-aha, to make enemies because people don't like it when you "rock the boat" here, aka acknowledge that there is a lot of poverty and problems and police corruption. But, you know what else I admit? Sometimes I love this job. Like when I get paid to start rallies, and get people pissed off, and spread rumors about the silly police, and make t-shirts that say cute things about making change, and listen to crackheads tell me made up stories.

And it's okay that I don't know if I'm doing the right thing or fighting for the right cause or staying in a place that I don't particularly like. Because this is not permanent.

I guess you could say the pencil
is my favorite of all inventions.
Each time I twirl it around from tip to end
I am reminded that nothing is permanent.
This feeling is not permanent
Today is not permanent
This silly routine is not permanent.

I am reassured knowing, when I fuck this up
I have tomorrow to find something new.
To find somewhere else that will look different,
even if inevitably it will be the same.

Sneak away to someone else who will
Distract me from everyday.
Sneak away into someone who I am not
But can pretend to be.

But I must not forget that after a while,
That moment will exist when the rubber is rubbed raw
when the metal scapes the page
and no more changes can be made
When I must live with what I have and enjoy it.
But for now, the rubber is thick and ready to rub.