else

i have known 

these days

just with different faces and 

that worn out look on mine

(which always was the dead give away)

that i didnt know what was happening.

and i couldnt tell if it was ok

not to know

or hope

or laugh

without thinking of something else

being somewhere else

faith must be the permission

not to know 

or hope

or laugh

without some type of 

(how do you call it)

sense of misplacement

displacement

i just hope 

these days 

grow feathers

i just hope 

these days 

learn to sing

(or dance...i cant tell which is more lithe)

i just hope

these days.