It sounds ridiculous but only I feel productive when I'm doing nothing.
Sitting back, just relaxing.
Popping blue beans, burning bowls of green.
And just thinking.
Daydreaming about how things could have been.
How things could still be.
But how things will probably be.
Just close your eyes and let music be your guide.

Entire lives constructed and played out
in grand fashion. A world so detailed
I would rather get lost,
And never come back to this travesty of a society,
so raw and primal.
so human.
My world is so beautiful and yet so depressing
because it's what ours could be, but never will become.
Anything to distract me from this.
The 24 year old burnout grinding through school because there aren't many options left.
So where will I'll be in 5 years?
I wont.

How can a body bear such longing?
Borne on fulfilment,
even atoms enclosed in their vast spaces
Hide from nothing.

I wish for you here
Because the air
won't turn black
this time

The air
will be the chariot of certainty
Crushing the physical
structure of the confused
So when you leave finally
Because of
destructions of ambiguity.

Know my tears
They are nourishment,
Softening the ground.