Poetry

when your todo list starts with “enter a synaesthetic flow state” and ends with “send that email you’ve been putting off” you start to wonder

still here, unexpectedly i refuse to do the deed for them

I feel I’m free falling into depths of distress

i don’t know what it looks like from an outsider’s perspective when i sit for twenty minutes staring at a glass of soy milk unable to make myself take a sip.  

Like starlight in a Dark Sky city so many twinkling fingertips

I have never fallen so completely in love with a thing.

You are going to be ok.

There wouldn’t be hollow hours