fake.

I wrote this in some spare time between meetings, sitting outside the Student Senate office in Hughes-Trigg. It wasn't written as poetry; I just reformatted it here to keep it interesting. I was really just rambling; you can definitely tell. There is no linearity of thought.

The bottom line is that I miss Arkansas...not the people, but rather, the environment. Arkansas has four fresh seasons; the leaves are changing and falling right now, and I'm missing it for the first time in years. The temperatures there are dropping, and the skies are cloudless. The air is crisp, the animals are busy, and the natural sounds aren't interrupted by sirens and traffic and the giggling of vapid girls.

I miss my home. This nature is not real. SMU feels so small and...frozen in time. I can't really describe it. I just know that this place is not authentic.

And it makes me very, very nervous.

ON "NATURE."

It's inorganic.

Manicured.

That which should never have been tamed has become

a project,

a daily task.

Itemised.

Subsidised.

Compartmentalised.

Every leaf has its assigned place.
Every tree has its roots mapped out into a network of tired labourers,

constantly limited,
thirsty, and
breaking the ground

to survive.

Sometimes even the sunlight tastes pre-packaged.
Little photons designed to maintain a constant feel of permanence.
The temperature is regulated according to the demands of the student body's wardrobe.

The sun rises.

...

The sun sets.

And so every bite-size day melts in your mouth,
and leaves a lingering taste of dissatisfaction.
The flavour of

non-fulfilling,

fat-free,

zero-cal,

zero-carb

"living."

Nature does as it's told,
and it never asks questions
or second-guesses the mandates handed down from them.

The same ones who govern nature are the same ones who exploit it and destroy it.

Natural is unnatural.

Best if used by immediately.

Keep away from small children.

Not intended for individual resale.

We aren't raised by nature anymore; nature is raised by us.

When nature isn't natural enough,
we manufacture it,

make immortal representations,

and bring them into our homes as

sick silk and polyester substitutes.

I hope one day,

The sun makes the choice to sleep in.

I hope one day,

The clouds show up unannounced and uninvited.

Ruin all the dresses and suit jackets.

Gate crash the most attended party in history.
Seven billion guests and counting.
They come kicking in and go sleeping out.

I hope one day,

The trees smash their arms through the red-brick walls that keep them contained.

I hope one day,

Nature is loud and unstoppable;

an absolute riot.

I want to hear

the chaos of life

and the cries of freedom,

and the breaking of barriers.

When we try to engineer nature, nature fights the design.

It's just biding its time...

...for now.

We really shouldn't be surprised when it arrives.
Maybe if we're peaceful and apologetic, we'll catch a break.

And maybe some extra rays.

Surf's up.

But I wouldn't count on it.
Nothing with so much positive energy can be kept still and repressed.

We are

nature,

and we are

very much

alive.