i imagine that amount doesn’t account for too much these days. it’s about the friendships you’ve helped to set sail, the day to day mundane that you’ve learned to do oh so well, and how you aim to please in so many ways. life’s not about bills or needs, long laborious days that cut you down like sub-division trees; it’s only about saving what the worth that your mind sees. 

how stupid of me to believe.

as the image of release was etched in her skin, she bit her lip forcefully. shallow breaths made the sharp, repetitiveneedle pricks feel like shallow lightning strikes that came quickly, left lazily, and then returned faster than she would have liked. she welcomed the shock initially, and nearly praised it for awakening of her senses past the drab, dark, dullness that had lasted far too long. God was in this moment. 

I wonder how hurt could be beneficial? like a passing of a torch, or chanting of a verse, pain makes us grow up; but why is anguish so essential? cause you realize that God’s pie in the sky can’t be eaten while work for wages on the earth. you spit out outlandish dreamscapes in order to hold currency that grew from the dirt. you sail though the waves of your days employing bits of scholastic memory in hopes that your compass is in the right direction……who’s direction?

scrape you skin if that’s what you need to reposition your plight from the complacent or placid. you’re idealist dreams are real…..just as real as the work you have to tug-boat through to make them happen.