The Noresoup Jukebox

the sun rises every morning - it is rarely late and I wake up to its warmth,  rays carressing my mother's new curtains my mother says the sun rises because God wakes her up my father does not refute but, he says, it is because the earth rotates on its axis we are all part of a cosmic struggle bigger than us my sister charges her tarot cards under the moon the sun does not possess the same celestial power my therapist tells me to see the sun every day something about vitamins and minerals and happiness i was trapped in my room like a prisoner in May falsifying June, recreating July in that dark apartment I woke up and the sun did not know my parents could only ever hope hope that the apartment was kind trust that the food was warm and plenty but a prisoner does not live comfortably there are no sins or virtues, he borrows no meaning from others for what is life if owned by what yields the sun? what is life if abandoned by this power? yet the sun rose and it was rarely late and when ...

i met a man in the spring, in dire need for company  a man who couldn't see pain beyond his own foolish me, curious cat, had grace and empathy i do not know what to believe  the man i met or the man he used to be but my mother says men do not change and back then, i agreed. how long do i have this music before i find out a man is a man no matter how overt they are with their concern  how careful they are with their desires how soft they are with their selves how bitter they are with their past and how foolish they are with women and oh, how they lavish  with the ways the world bends for men and him, feigning pain and suffering  for want of the mother's touch from women  and the bitter irony,  the laugh of the century, their desire for love triumphs 6 months, then 6 days after,  they desire fresher company  and, the cruelest secret  in the pocket of their youth always hides a woman they tainted a woman they could not respect  an...