queue thoughts

tryin’ to think
playing everything on shuffle
maybe times are on PM
morning and i’m tired
writing some lines in line before i return
sometimes i look in the mirror

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i’m rising

hold the helium
heal the atrium
i’m like a balloon in a cartoon
i’m rising i’m floating
land looking tiny
ocean boats float
leaving behind fire and smoke
existence doesn’t matter

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Resting v2, Day 26

“What’s one thing you did today?” I tried to rest, but I didn’t really rest. I’m feeling down.

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Resting v2, Day 21

“What’s one thing you did today?” I rewrote a thing I wrote a few days ago:

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Resting v2, Day 4

“What’s one thing you did today?” Today I thought some thoughts. Then I started thinking. Thinking about writing 1000 words. How does it feel to type all of them? Good? Weird? Tiring? Maybe 1000 is too many to repeat every day. Lance of light, land loftily, show the way toward the light. Maybe just writing…

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Spring ’23, Day 19

Message is about context. Maybe I can create context.

I’ll try.

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Spring ’23, Day 6

Where am I at? Where am I going? Where do I want to be?​

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Spring ’23, Day 2

Take a deep breath, empty out the old air. I’m climbing a stair. Upward movement feels light. I don’t like trite rhymes, so I’ll stay on the sides. Outside the main flow, but somewhere within. Only waiting for my ides to idle in.

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Winter ’22/23, Day 25

I wish I could write words which were bright and light.
Words which taste like lemonade.
Words to make sand love you.
Words which made you lighter.
A way to remind you of your feathers.
Make you feel like you could roller skate on water.
If I could, I would.

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Winter ’22/23, Day 23

Will the warmth I feel wash away this cold breeze?
Cold water.
Cold hands.
Cold fingers.
Tireless eyes.
The ocean demands warmth.

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Fall ’22, Day 106

Would you be the warm friend on a rainy evening?
Would you hold my faint words and watch me build castles?
Would you?
Until the last word swims and sculpts and I breathe in.
Until I learn to speak.

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Summer ‘22, Day 91

I’m in a stand of trees. Cicadas roar. The air is cool and the sun fading. Leaves are dark against the evening sky.

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Summer ’22, Day 66

Step By
Devastation. Loss. Grief.
Every day I walk past them in the sunlit hallway
Every day their eyes trace my path as I pass by

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Summer ’22, Day 41

mi alasa e kulupu.
kulupu mi li lon seme?
ona li lon ala lon?
mi lon ala lon?
mi kon taso.

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Summer ‘22, Day 40

Have you ever stayed behind

After everyone has gone?

Felt the bright air

Left in their wake?

Chairs, chairs, chairs

To return like ships to islands

And once they’re safe at shore:

Breathe the bright air

As it slowly dissipates
And settle into sleep

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