Not Some Side Job

This isn’t some side job

that you can pick up

whenever you have

extra seconds on

your wristwatch.


The nebulas of your eyes

are always looking,

observing each individual

infinitely small

ray of light that falls

into your pupil.


The nerve endings of

your skin never stop feeling,

even if they are only touching air.

They feel the tension,

the electricity,

the gravity,

of what they do not touch.


The nose on your face

continuously smells

its surroundings.

It smells so often

you’ve forgotten

the scent of

precious oxygen.


Your tongue perpetually creates

the words you speak,

choosing the words

from your palette

like a chef extraordinaire,

tasting them like food

before they leave

the cavern of your mouth.


The sensitive ears on

the side of your head

pick up radio tunes,

sweet words,


car horns

and white noise

throughout the day

without relent.


No, this isn’t some side job

you can pick up

in your free time.

The one job you have

is to observe the universe

and tell the universe

about itself.


That is all, observer.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741