if i couldn’t - feel - for a day,
i wonder -
how i’d feel about it the next day;
to not have a memory i can name;
to come out the other side,
to realize -
the story’s still the same.

what would i even call such a day?
i guess - it’d still be a regular day...
for others to see me -
like, they’ve always seen me
under the sun.
just for a day,
put my soul out of the equation.    

i wonder where i’d even start,
with my mind, and my tongue -
both poles apart.
no self-esteem to feed,
nor the regrets -
to fight about.
****!
what would i even write about...?

the 'allure' of writing always starts with fancy words,
and ends after one sacrifices them at the altar of truth.

if you still must rely on words like 'allure' to make your point,
you're not ready.

remember, craftsmanship is mere virtuosity -
a great skill that may hide the lack of true perception in an artist.

now, before you go on to google 'virtuosity',
please write an honest line.

You asked for this door.
One foot through the
Other trembling in the stars.

You can[not] have balance without halfway seeking defeat.

Stone's on the water now.

Float or sink.