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Without trying
Sometimes I get up in the morning with the sunshine on my face, and I look in the mirror and I sing and I dance, and appreciate the life in my reflection. I want to wear my vibrancy out loud and dress to impress when I get this rush, this need to be and do the most; to occupy every single space and minute with anything other than breathing, to conquer the world — whatever that may mean these days. I just want to do so much I feel the burn in my veins. And then come the down days. My depressive episodes get the best of me. I sit…
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Vague Poetic Lines
What can I say that Rumi hasn’t already said? What kind of candid snapshot can I take straight out of my unbelievable days to blast on the internet? What can I say that’s different from yesterday? My mind wanders, but it knows it is these, the same old untreatable sores it wants to exhibit, like a fine view at the d’Orsay. The work that didn’t get done, the flame burning my home, the unanswered knock on the door, the interrupted dreams galore, the flower that didn’t bloom, the chrysalis that didn’t pull through… I’d be letting the world peek in as I speak, but inside, it’s like an old dusty…
