ode to the nutroots

Hey, don't I know you from some other life?
you were wide-eyed and green and a little bit taller
and you didn't look away when spoken to

Do you still take two sugars?
you seem a little tense
and I can't help but notice how hard you appear
when I look into your eyes
a violent blue

Was it sudden? was it clean?
were there a lot of shades in between?

Hey, are you in there?
or don't you recall when the perfume of belief was all we needed
it was all we needed to set our sights

So when did you throw out the rest of the world
deaf from the din of your self-righteous babble?
I think you've been blinded
by your own light

Was it hatred? was it pride?
or did you just have a lot to hide?

Am I boring you?
I could say more
we were destined for somewhere
but that was before you traded in your peace sign for a finger

And I don't believe it's the way you were raised
or the cards you were dealt
or a poor self-image
I think you love yourself

too much…

Chagall Guevara: Violent Blue

nut•roots, n.