Swirl of bitter smoke as smooth as a scent.
Richness, indulgence.
Why deny the body corporal pleasures?
What more is there to living
than cake, creamy coffee, scents, softness-
excessiveness in excess.
Finding meaning in knowing that
it's all Absurd.
When the pang of wanting arises,
do not deny. There are no rules.
Willpower will not follow you beyond the grave.
Brass bed posts, tainted and smoothed
by touch, casual grazes,
as the feet touch the cold floor,
the breath creaks out.
A wooden table, round and stained
that softly accepts the heavy mug.
That gives the fingers something
roughly smooth to touch
when there's nothing-
or when there's everything, it's all too much-
the sensory.
A window with an eroded sill.
Or better yet- a balcony.
A purple sky, the air humid and warm.
A chance to breathe.
Is it selfish? Is it how true life should be?
Lazy, gluttonous, pointless, boring.
Tell me I don't know what's good for me.
Sleep, wake,
bed, sheets soft and hugging
tugging on a duvet to cover from the
breeze- an open window with curtains dancing.
Is it time clocks or is it days and feelings?
11:30 is not too early for lunch because
lunch is when you're hungry.
My body calls for
blueberries, tobacco, dozy sleeps on and off for 3 hours,
dark chocolate squares to excite my tongue,
outdoors, fresh air, being naked in the day time.
A shirt with a joke on it that only you understand.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 10:06 AM UTC
Swirl of bitter smoke as smooth as a scent.
Richness, indulgence.
Why deny the body corporal pleasures?
What more is there to living
than cake, creamy coffee, scents, softness-
excessiveness in excess.
Finding meaning in knowing that
it's all Absurd.
When the pang of wanting arises,
do not deny. There are no rules.
Willpower will not follow you beyond the grave.
Brass bed posts, tainted and smoothed
by touch, casual grazes,
as the feet touch the cold floor,
the breath creaks out.
A wooden table, round and stained
that softly accepts the heavy mug.
That gives the fingers something
roughly smooth to touch
when there's nothing-
or when there's everything, it's all too much-
the sensory.
A window with an eroded sill.
Or better yet- a balcony.
A purple sky, the air humid and warm.
A chance to breathe.
Is it selfish? Is it how true life should be?
Lazy, gluttonous, pointless, boring.
Tell me I don't know what's good for me.
Sleep, wake,
bed, sheets soft and hugging
tugging on a duvet to cover from the
breeze- an open window with curtains dancing.
Is it time clocks or is it days and feelings?
11:30 is not too early for lunch because
lunch is when you're hungry.
My body calls for
blueberries, tobacco, dozy sleeps on and off for 3 hours,
dark chocolate squares to excite my tongue,
outdoors, fresh air, being naked in the day time.
A shirt with a joke on it that only you understand.
