(Part of me is) I am (that I am) human.


Funny how when you’re working someone else’s job, that time goes so slowly, you could chew your own wrists for hours in agony.. Your cupboards are full, bills paid, you think about what you’ll do in your “off-time” and the horrendous routine ticks ticks tick-tocks monotonously, painfully along another day another day another day…
But when you’re working your own purpose, there’s just never enough of it, not time, not money, not guidance, not air, not space… you’re tired as (!$*!), but your heart is full and you can’t you can’t you cannot just cannot stop.! ..It’s a time travel speed train..
How did I get here again? And where’s the halfway in-between place of calm and rest and the outside evidence of this peace inside? (And the stuff I preach?!)

how (!!!)

to always maintain “sanity” in this world and this city, when you can feel your limbs turning twisting green from longing and yearning for a forest,

you can feel your bones and joints petrify and crumble from aching for the earth,

and you’re swooshing and swindling yourself and this body,

back and forth,
like the ocean waves,

as the beautiful moon pushes and pulls her perpetual, wicked way with you..?

What do you tell your mind to believe if what you know is too large for it to hold?

How do you accept this frustrating composition of cells, in a set form called “human”, and love it unconditionally with all its flaws and such immense limitation?

I have come (here) to learn to love my choices (it seems).


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