05/10/2021

05/10/2021

Waking up everyday is a different experience.

Sometimes its cloudy, other days, sunny instead.

I've been trying to notice, for less than twenty-eight years, but, certainly more than fifteen.

Sometimes it’s the environment and other times it’s me. Essentially back to where I started. From one self perceived extreme to the other.

A heart full of ache, of progressive regret, and longing.

Hanging onto love or the indignation of rejection?

My entire identity, the energy of my being, fully based off the daily image of what is not.

Wanting now, to get back to what created my thoughts of today.

To that which is not real.

To that specific flow of water that has already passed.

The current itself, infinite and malleable; as a whole always finding the path of least resistance

Insignificant in the face of that truth. Constantly caught, confusing strength...with anger, envy... isolation.

Yet Friday nights continue to give me eyes, drinks, and uncertainty.

Left with the lesson that: the night was real.

Ultimately, looking for the saint tangled in bed...

Responsible, drunk, scientific and moral.