Little pleasures; When luxury becomes the norm, both the anticipation and the pleasure in little things become diminished. Lets put away our plastic teabags and start our value enhancement with a lovely *** of leaf tea.

When I feel unable to take a deep breath,
And these shallow hallow skips hasten,
it doesn’t catch until I compress my ribcage flush against my spine and it feels like they’re knocking against one another in what I imagine is a bony xylophone playing a low note that reverberates at the base of my throat.
It feels good for a second but only just that.
And then I take another 10 to 15 cursory breaths that slip off of each other,
hoping this restriction, this deprivation, would make the next One Big Deep Breath so much more satisfying, so much sweeter.
When I’m in that moment I think

Is anything sacred?
I get scared that maybe we’re so empowered that we’ve moved past the need for sanctity.
And the fact that I worry about this, that I need this world to legitimize having something to cling to, maybe that means I’m not empowered.
And what does it mean today for me not to be empowered? That I’m not so brave? That I have so much privilege that lets me live in this space where I don’t have to be so brave?
I wonder why sacred things seem so exclusionary, why only certain lands, certain experiences, certain people hold this dominion. And if something was everywhere could it ever be sacred, like air or dirt, but also like pop music and printed t-shirts.
I get a bit lost in these thoughts for a while and then notice that I can in fact breathe normally again, which is good news, and a relief.
And yes, I think to myself, air is very sacred. But only when you need it, or more specifically only when you’re conscious of needing it.
And then my thoughts evolve into something kinder like,

Can anything be sacred?
Can I let things be sacred to me, even when I have them already, in abundance?
Can I let go of this puritanical idea that fear of loss is a prerequisite for value?
It also implies, Can I let myself hold on to moments that I want to hold on to and not question whether it makes me weak or dumb or immature? Or even, can I allow myself to question it, but know that the answer, no matter what it is, isn’t an insult or a deeply troublesome flaw? It’s just an observation at a point in time, and the ego doesn’t need to bare the brunt of a lashing because of it. Maybe this is a type of empowerment, which is a realization that makes me feel good, confident even.
Which leads to a bolder question,

Is everything sacred?
And can I conceptualize that everything can be sacred, without turning it into a paradox? In both absolute and relative terms, that by seeing everything in this world as sacred, it doesn’t negate the concept itself, and in turn doesn’t mean that nothing is. It just means that it can all be valuable. There is inherent wealth in it all. And wow, what a calming thought that is. Maybe because I am a part of ‘everything’, and so this blanket definition of value covers me too. I breathe easy to that idea, aware now of the steady inhale and the significance of it all. I can close my eyes and take comfort in the slowness, relax a clenched jaw and let my mind hypnotically revolve around a question that’s answer is yes.

I say again you’re special
I say again you’re loved
I think it’s time you realized
That you are enough

I did not treat you the greatest,
But you did not treat me right too.
And since we heartbreakingly departed,
In other men, I am searching for you.
You were my first real love,
I adored you so incredibly much.
But now you forever hate me,
And I've forgotten your touch.
We will never again meet,
Our love is in the past.
Though, there was a time when
We thought it would surely last.
After you left me broken,
On Valentine's Day,
I fell into a dangerous spiral.
And lost myself along the way.
I have seen eight since our love fell,
In roughly three hundred days.
And in that time frame,
I thought I had parted ways.
But it seems you still cross my mind,
And I will sometimes check up on you.
I guess what I'm saying is that sometimes
I miss the old love we'd once had too.
But might I add as well; listen to my voice.
In every situation, I was always his last choice.
People that had bullied me, he cared for more.
To this boy, standing up for me was a chore.
He cared more for himself than for me,
He cared about his image, so much more.
And when he told me he never loved me,
I fell down, heart in agony, tears on the floor.
He tried leaving, I didn't want him to go.
And so, I tried hurting myself in front of him,
All as a means of telling him no.
It worked, he stayed a little as he did care,
Although it was not in the way I wanted;
And with you, I will now share.
Valentine's Day, he said he never loved me,
After nine months, he expressed the kind of love.
It was not the love I had; the unconditional kind.
And it was not the other either, from up above.
It was the sort of love that had him blind.
What I'm saying is that he felt nothing but lust.
His feelings for me had faded away;
And that is why I ended it that day.
I told him, if you walk out the door, we are done.
Oh my, you should have seen him run.
And left alone, I screamed.
You would have thought I'd been stabbed!
To my chest, my hand held and grabbed.
My heart was exploding, love flying away.
I screamed out, but I wouldn't see him today.  
Or ever again.
And now I keep trying to find you,
Somehow, in other men.

There are many ways to hold her
Sometimes conventional is off
You see, hands have hurt before
I’m sure they’ll hurt again
She needs a different kind of love

You found this supernatural creature
Life’s defining “cherry on top”
She’s a rare find to be adored
For her both mind and heart must bend
To find a different kind of love

Have you asked what a kiss translates to?
Which words you’ve said have penetrated?
Gestures bring something to the table
Share in the happiness and bad
To find her prescribed dose of love

So many things to learn that are new
So many more ways love is translated
Find her dialect if you’re able
To appreciate, to awe, to add
New ways to different kinds of love