Lunch Break with Dr. Seuss

I said I would write, even if my shit sucks, especially if no one reads it. Why? Because this is for me, no one else.

I’ve been processing fear in my dreams, apocalyptic nightmares, lava lakes appear, so near to my dear heart, waking up clear, and steer this chariot along the middle road because this soul is not for sale….

How to express with balanced emphasis, burning passionate hate, transmutate, for wide, is the gate, negate, contemplate, alchemists in stride, for faith and for fate, and single-file lines, chanting “I’m not my body, I’m not my mind.”

I call on holy purgatory flames, shame, blame, and childish games, for humans and their big brains, complain of the acid rain, ascertain, its the same game, for fame and billions in the bank, millions walking planks, military tanks, missing children, prison shanks, and big thanks, for thousands of years of genocide and oppression….

Bolt upright, sweaty chest, middle night, address distress, risk of flight, and I guess, I’m still breathing on purpose, for a purpose, ah, I digress….

Get back to work, Dr. Seuss!

Author: Ikaika Torres

Writer, filmmaker, actor

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