thin your herd

i was walking through brooklyn the other day and i saw this line
scrawled across a wall
i kept walking but suddenly
maybe a block or two away
it all made sense
everything, life,
it all made sense
everything, it all
came down to those three words
thin your herd
later i was sitting on a curb
lonely and smoking a cigarette
listening to a band and watching some people
i was sitting but also thinking
about all the thinning my life needed
and somehow it all made sense
my bag, my waist, my thighs,
all of my other herds,
the ones here in new york,
and the ones back home,
the parts of my herd i don't need,
the parts making me lag
and it was wonderful
to float while sitting
to feel lifted while walking
down an empty street
i was existing and it felt nice
i was walking and didn't need anything else
it all made sense
that maybe just
being is enough
suddenly it all makes sense
that maybe you're not wrong
but your herd is just
too thick
that maybe you just need some thin white lines
on a wall in williamsburg for a warning
a reminder and a reassurance
that maybe everything is going fine
and your head in the clouds is
in the right place
that walking and existing
and floating and sitting
and smoking and drinking and crying
all made sense
that some sheep just need
to be let loose
and that some,
some but not many,
some sheep are here to stay

graffiti is basically the best wisdom. i spent most of yesterday alone, thinking and wandering. i reached a strange point between feeling sad and feeling complete.