a confession from a refugee
in a no nails policy home
“it’s a lease but i feel
like i’m on a leash.”
advice is just a device
for you to be nice
turning me into dice
being tossed
being turned
being tumbled
being rolled
i’m dizzy
i’m blurred
i’m confused
i’m lost
in a rice field of advice
infected by mice
so green yet so brown
so new yet so old
so fresh yet so rust
so many yet so few
for i don’t know
what’s good?
what’s bad?
for me
what’s to do?
what’s not to do?
on my own
for i am
just the icing
you carefully craft
on your pretty cake
and now i’m becoming
melting ice from the ice
sculpture you carve
haiku
wherever you go
you’re still you. at whatever
state you are, you’re that.