being stuck, they say, is uncomfortable.
i believe it’s not necessarily true. for instance,

...i like getting stuck inside my room and read for a day or two or three or four, forever.
...i like getting that last song stuck in my head for a day or two or three or four, forever.
...i like getting stuck in traffic with my pen and paper.
...i like getting stuck in the moment...perhaps, with you.

getting stuck is an opportunity, staying stuck is unhealthy

staying stuck on a single story out of convenience regardless of its completeness is poison mistaken for remedy

these are the things that fall,

an apple,
some leaves,
droplets of rain,
and then of tears.

almost all heavy objects,
(including) my sleepy eyes.
the sun at the close of day.
the stars on a dark sky.

the sky,

and my heart, for the only thing that didn’t (fall), your heart.

i will miss...

...all the words even when they’re meant for someone else

...how you make me read between the lines, the commas, the
parentheses and the semicolons

...the all-consuming feeling as i turn the last page

...giving you up to others

...that most people do

...wake up
...go to work
...think of you

...sit at desk
...listen to music
...think of you

...go home
...sleep
...think of you

...please take notice
...i’m thinking of you

will you
ever gaze
at the
same star
that i
do?

a well-loved pen,
the human mind,
the way, the time,
eventually, hope and faith.

then my words when you're finally near,
and myself whenever you're not here

today i will

…do nothing but
scroll mindlessly
to your recently played
hoping to get connection

today i will

…do nothing but
travel the world
through the window of this room
hoping to get inspiration

today i will

…do nothing but
menially
type words
hoping to find the write one

today i will

…do nothing but
stare at the ceiling
and never leave this bed,

i would celebrate
the day i did nothing.