I am good at being alone.
The dishes get done
when I feel like doing them.
Silence hangs like a painting
I chose myself.
The hours bend gently around me,
and I call it peace.

I laugh out loud
at my own jokes,
call it self-love,
call it growth.
The plants don’t mind
if I forget to water them,
and neither do I.
This is thriving, I tell myself.

Then I spend three days
with people I love.
Not performing.
Not planning.
Just existing
side by side-
a meal shared
without occasion,
laughter that erupts
without needing a reason.

I remember something
older than language:
that warmth isn’t just a temperature.
That joy has a different flavour
when someone else tastes it too.
I remember that solitude
was never meant to be
a permanent home-
only a resting place.

There is a part of me
that longs for gardens
we plant together,
for walls we build
with laughter baked in.
For shoes at the door
that aren’t all mine.

Maybe the soul remembers
what modern life unlearned-
that we were made
to brush shoulders
to pass bread
to belong.

And maybe
what I called thriving
was just surviving
with the lights on.

A day off the map
no lighthouse hikes
no ferry tickets in my pocket
just the cabin walls
the pines breathing slow outside

I roll up green quiet
let the smoke curl through
the screen door cracks
the air tastes like lakewater
and cedar

a chapter or two, maybe more
the book heavy in my lap
but light enough to drift away from
when Ethel Cain's voice
slips into my ears clean and close
like she's laying right beside me

no rush, no reason
the world can go on spinning its errands
while I stay here
in bed,
half ******, half reading,
all the way alive
in the hush of Tobermory

Sometimes,
I wish I had the power
like Joshua did
when he made the world
stop moving
for a whole day.

Just that I don't want it
for killing enemies
or conquering cities.
No, I don't.
I have enough chaos
already going on.

I just want it,
so that I can stop the world
for a couple of hours,
maybe even a whole day;
just to catch my breath
and take a rest
from this thing
called living.

The kids are having fun
running a race around
the marsh, meanwhile trying
to catch the time in this day
of rest, as eternal heroes

In the trees, they build
houses that bear sweet smells

This earthly paradise
for young and old, of reflecting
on the weeks together
to set out with astonished eyes
will never perish

I don't want to eat breakfast
Or watch my favorite show
Don't want to eat lunch either
Or take walks in the snow

I don't want to watch leaves turn
Or take trips to the beach
Don't really want to read my books
And I don't want to teach

I don't want to take a bath
Don't want to call my friends
I don't want to play in rain
My gosh, this never ends

I don't want to change my clothes
Or pet the neighbor's dog
I just want someone to say
How long this will go on

I don't want to meet new friends
Or see old ones, either
I don't want to see anyone
Or to be lonely, neither.

And I don't need to be in love
I don't want a new car
Today, I just want to be done,
My life has gone too far

So tell me that it's over now
And that I can finally sleep
Then slowly watch me fade away
Pray the LORD my soul to keep

Today, I'm taking a day of rest
The first in a long time

Life on aeroplane mode
Picnic in a park
Walking with my Maker
No agenda
Just pleasure

Or at least, that was the intention.

Life on city mode
Festival in a park
Walking through fiestas
Constant clamour
Pierced pleasure

I undress and see nothing of me
       in the clothes neatly laid out
       next to each other to put back on

underwear is underwear, trousers trousers
if there is anything special about it
it is just that
      
there are no marks on it, I don't advertise
I unstitch myself free
pick the lint from my clothes
      
out of my navel, the belly is cool, I feel
myself, breast is breast, cheek cheek
but my belly, that's me

my hands know it
better than my eyes
that do recognize my face
      
as mine, everywhere
where I am, nowhere for sale
but it is veiled now

I am tired, I want rest
having nothing to do with anyone
and still
      
love myself

Sunday is a day of rest
when you work at home to make it the best

Sunday is a day of peace
but in pointless wars killing does not cease

Sunday is a day to recover
from one too many drinks plus another

Sunday is laying late in bed
but the kids ned to be washed and fed

Sunday is a walk in the park
with thousands of others, it's best after dark

Sunday is family time
that you spend in the company of partners in crime

Sunday what more can I say
a day of rest before another working day