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this is what it always comes down to.
a cup of cold brew that wakes you up.
the right song shuffled to dance through earbuds.
consistent green lights while driving.
a pretty pastel hue of blue in the sky.
that friend you ran into in the library that loosens your shoulders.
steady breathing.
your body and skin hanging on despite days of stress than care.
food and dollar bills at hand.
loved ones waiting for you at home (yes, this includes dogs and hamsters).
a privilege to see and the ability to hear.
to listen. soak in. to be present even for one moment.
money is only paper if you don’t know what to use it for.
your dream is stuck in the realm of imagination if you never act upon it.
investments show their true blessings in due time.
if you know these things,
and move, fall, make mistakes, recover, brush the dust off, and keep
trying –
you’re already living and making it.

these are the basic rules of life.
these are all you need.


are you, am i

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my heart wants
to miss you
someone who
stole than
100% to
me, who can’t fly
the ocean
to hold me
let alone send
a word
the truth he left
undug and dead
it wants to miss
the chance
flirting with
the impossible
a thrill let loose
sparks beneath
the coals
like them, I wait
for him to
light my sparks

tell me how
I flit around your
head like a bird
searching for crumbs
in rubble
a busy dot on
your grid of memories –
fleeting images that
keep you wondering

tell me am I
your cup of coffee
every morning or
a story to tell
the guys of
your first
mess-up dealing with
all things love
and that honesty is hard but
in reality, missing
should be harder –
I wonder if you ever
think to yourself
I’m past that but
not yet past

I truly wonder

how to survive in the cold.

What will it take to keep happiness locked inside you, more deeply than unsatisfaction, anxiety, worry and depression?

Where is the key of contentment? I can look for it everywhere.

But the more steps I waste, the louder the cries of my heart ring, the heavier the darkness gets, and the harder it is to erase the voices, the impending sadness that resembles a big, grey cloud. As it sobs, the city of my bones, nerves and emotions soak in the tears.

What will dry them?

Is happiness warm? I’m usually chilly.

Will it take the next two weeks,

a month,

six months or

the next breath to stop feeling this illusion?

Where have I run to so far? Where am I? How can I get back home?

The self has been locked in an unidentifiable chamber and I just need to make it mine again. But how?

When will this mystery end? My thoughts never end, and they’ve consistently been getting worse.

Will I need to leave this place to gain a sense of where it is, or how I might attain it?

What shall I do next, when my feet and hands are already quite worn and dry?

Only my eyes remain wet and lively. Somehow.

But I can’t even guess how hard, murky and black the caverns and passageways of my heart and mind really, truly are.