try not to become so distracted
or maybe
become a bit more

get lost in something, whatever it may be. it is healthy to be challenged intellectually every once in a while. push your limits. find something you've never thought twice about and pull all of the emptiness and boredom and anxiety and twist it into something beautiful. dissect it, examine it, create from it. always give yourself permission to feel. we know this already, that logic and thought sometimes refuse to mix, so separate the two and create something impossible. challenge yourself. everything in this life can find ways to shove you down, but how will you overcome by laying stagnant?

holding your ground is not bad, but remember the things that bring you joy. loosen up. hold onto other things. look ahead a bit more often. immerse yourself in life.

Immersed in
a medium.
As figures
in a painting.
Limited in
nature.
Rules
must be
followed.
Like an
aquarium
or a
terrarium.
Movement
limited.
Finite in
nature.
The medium
inhabited,
fluid.
The medium
four D.
The
painting
ever changing.
But rules
always apply.
Like the
painting on
the wall, the
medium observed.
Running smoothly.
The results,
uncertain.
Yet holding
the interest
of the Cosmos.
The Cosmos
a living thing.
A creating thing.
Brush strokes
creating.
Like a picture
on the wall,
limited it
be!

Love is made of art and brokenness
Like a candle it illuminates the heart's darkness
We are bearing seeds of tiny metal particles
As if we were made from diamonds
And also some dusty old articles

We are often lonely and rather lustful of our neighbors
And so full of distrust that we sometimes envision
That perfection was indeed a poisonous arrow to begin with
And our sorrow is so desperate to be touched
That we are quite glad to confess our collective unrest
Both today and again tomorrow, if you'd really like us too

And tonight i will beg for you to bless me
And if we are alive I know that you'll caress me
You are wise yet also young and beautiful
With a sultry body and a voice that's in between **** and whiny
When your luscious mouth pouts its quite beyond the ordinary
And even if there are some other girls out there
That some people would say are rather more inviting

For though our love is but tiny specks of lightning
Its impossible to assume that we're making
A rather large show out of nothing
You see we are really melodramatically quite intact
Like abstract paintings positioned a little too precisely
Our trimmed and trembling figures
Have been financed by constant neglect more than adequately
So we attract the attention of only the most deplorable of agents
Yet thankfully due to our full and constant immersions in urgency
We are still flourishing in the graveyards and basements categories
And have you heard of the band, The Entitled Undead
I expect they may become a permanent collective in your head someday

Please correct me if I'm wrong
But I know I’ve heard you sing this song before
And I adore the morning's silent symphony
When hundreds of bees are as bright
As a canopy of sunflowers
Leaning into the trees like fallen buffalo
We dream of Navajo sunsets
And isolated islands embedded
In a sea of convulsive incoherence