#writinginclass

I’ve found a seed

that needs

to grow

but I know

that the ants

eat my plants.

But, look! I’m so lucky!

It’s just struck me,

here’s a very

get the feelings out

release the self doubt

look for a mountain of confidence.

i still can’t find it.

let alone climb it, but never mind the shit.

i’m not defined by what i wish for/

seeking bliss more/

i need to kiss her more too/

more in tune w. the bruises/

i should learn to wear a helmet more often.

a little more caution/

when im blowin dro in the wind/

not really boredom within/

but definitely complacency/

seeking safety in the spaces i need/

anxiety is a real b**ch, life feelin like a ditch sometimes.

or maybe this rip jus needs a stitch.

to fix the wrinkle in time/

but for now my mind oozes/

out of the cracks, my psyche wanders along the tracks/

constantly forgetting my way back.

tryna make a lasting impact/

to put society back on track/

no champagne to pop/

stove always hot

stay cookin like cooks wearin crocs

more portland than i thought

hipster as fuq aint no stoppin it

but guac for breakfast on baguette is an accomplishment/

keepin it vegan even on the weekend/

still bumpin tha weeknd/

see me treading in the deep end/

tryna see me as them/

keep it empathetic and less skeptical/

chest full of passion even tho i try to mask it/

i seek the sun & then i bask in it/

spring has a certain smell to it.

the breezes get a little more damp and alot less sharp.

as of right now, it’s march in pdx. everyone is looking for a patio to consume booze on. i’m not mad at it.

the quest to understand/ deal with love continues, along with the extreme repetitiveness of life as a wage slave. the way out of this maze is not particularly clear. most days i’m pretty sure we’re in the Matrix. Here’s to hoping though...

Actually, fuck, I’m supposed to be doing something about this alcoholism. The real question is... how do we break the cycles? How do we move beyond our current perspective and senses? Is the existentialist dread real? What do we really fee like?

Back to reality. I better keep jumping through these hoops if I expect to make it out of the jungle alive. I think the race thing will always be a problem. A problem we can overcome together, yes, but still a problem.

Honestly though, a little empathy goes a long way. We are not as different as we appear. Things are not as they seem.

I still can’t remember dreams either, but I’m happy to sleep. My friends and lovers have not been so lucky. But maybe literal insomnia is what I feel like most of the time. Trapped against my will. Full of anxiety. Full of self doubt.

What if I was speeding down the highway when my threshold passed? *

But still, balconies are beautiful. Suspended we are, in mid air, as the smoke swirls. It’s good to be among the birds for a change.