everyone has a birthday

scoff, baby, toughen
up and grit down
on your bit, lighten
up, turnaround,
be a little more
than deliverer
of disappointment.

don't let the weight
of your quest squash
any residual guesswork.

don't cling to flakes
of unfortunate reality
that pool your consciousness,
turning spirits soggy.

they are sure to melt by the morning.

so make them familiar mistakes
in the name of cyclical evolution.

at some distant point
they will reveal themselves
to be more necessary
than all them advances
combined.

don't you fade with any degree
of permanence, don't rig your
scaffold with scarlet letters,
don't dare dig between the lines:
those worlds are a prism
magnifying our bodies,
preemptively empty.

here is your birthday present:
a salute to your existence,
a breathy verse verifying
that though in life you are
unquestionably alone,
if you died that might change.