This is joyous.
Prancing around like a hobby-horser.
Perfect degree of hungoverness.
Music playing.
Shower, yes, but nothing more.
Today’s beauty doesn’t thrive on maintenance.
Just like the beautiful soul: it simply exists, and
existence is innocence.
Catwalking through my apartment,
every corner the occasion for a flamboyant turn,
a pirouette maybe.
Homosexual, yes, and raging.
Not to glamorise last night.
We all know, healthy coping looks differently.
Still, serotonin-flooded mornings
need to be taxidermied with precision.