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There is only here and nothing much more. Yearning and dissolving out into the distance. Presence and patience and a willingness to stick with it, to breathe, even when it’s challenging, even when I want to quit, even when i want to run away. The grief, or the pain or whatever it is. I write until the chains at my wrists fall. Disappear onto the ground. Black crows and big dogs guide me into the underworld, and all that’s asked of me is to ground,and to re-find my center. Put the roots down deep and breathe. To not give up on this, smoke cigarettes if i need to, eat ice cream, whatever it is, yet do it with presence. Do it all with an awakened heart and soul and body. Do it with presence, and from here see what unfolds.

Everyone around me working on their mental health, drugs prescribed by men in white coats. Where has my passion gone? Cut off i no longer desire to live, walking on a tight rope, an invisible wire. A flatline of an existence, no wonder i am so tired. Does this town of dreams and nightmares burn me to a crisp? Or does it instead ask me to stand up tall and be mindful of what i wish. It asked me to own my self, to hold my own, and to not give up. To never give up.

Almost done, don’t give up, you know an injustice is written within the fabric of the code. Find it, and reserve it. Find it and write something new, keep going, don’t give up yet. What can my ego attach to to find a new burst of motivation to keep going, to keep trying, to keep working? I know that this is what i must do, yet i need something to work for, to work towards, some fire at my ass to get me moving, to get me driven, to something, something something. Otherwise i collapse and fall into a heap of the never end.