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Beliefs
Effect areas
Of our intelligence  
That sould otherwise
Contemplate logically

Waiting for
Miracles
Impossibly real
Stuck in caves
Where kindness
And fear
Come together
And ****

More than an image
The sky outside
Turn around
And run for the real life!
Traveler Tim

Greek in origin (:
Imagine seeing your vices
All Piled up
Or In a crate
or a vat
The eternal filing cabinet
Lists that
The Stirling equivalent
Of what you paid out
Could have bought you a boat
And not a cheap one at that.
I’m finally going to get on that platform
on the 18th of next month,
for a first-time, one-time performance.
The once, seemingly impossible will come fully true,
which seems like a lot narratively.

It’ll be like leaving home—but we’re crashing out.
Moving on to other plot points, big topics and intense missions.
We’re all caustically optimistic.

Although there’s a cellular-level pull to move on
we can’t help but feel a hesitancy to jump into our multifarious futures.
We’ve never been improvident.

In my personal pool of experience, when I feel alone,
friendless and unseen, this unintelligible fear noise arises
and I'm tempted to tap out. But I never have.
.
.
Songs for this:
walk but in a garden by LLusion
What Dreams Are Made Of by Evann McIntosh
I Like You (A Happier Song) [feat. Doja Cat] by Post Malone
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 03/12/25:
multifarious = a great diversity or variety (diverse).
improvident = rash

Yale graduation with a Bachelor of science in Molecular biophysics and biochemistry
I have spent days
beside you and a
thousand nights
alone, dreaming
on the edge of
spineless books
too afraid to jump!
now I find myself,
drinking, dancing,
laughing with the
forgotten writers,
wrapped up tightly
with all their solitary
words, words scribbled
in relatable misery, I have
fallen in unrecognisable
love with their loss,
their lust, their insane
style of adventure, their
relentless drunkenness,
their sorrow, their suffering,
their almost unbelievable
grief …
Clay.M
 May 3 Bijan Rabiee
Karen
Softness is the night
Where quiet petals drift
In a silken web of light
A silent lullaby
Sureal
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