when i trip
i listen to music
that creates a
a story or archetype
for my consciousness
to synchronize with
to exist in
to live through
as if another life
altogether
full with gratitude
meaning
purpose
and maybe even
answers
Category: Writing (page 1 of 1)
there’s comfort
in the image of our
digital bits
decaying
to
dust
too
“Look up.”
Two hands lay palms-down on a brown briefcase.
Scars. From cleats and dirt, knives at the bottom of soapy kitchen sinks, mother’s maroon-painted fingernails. Memories. The only way of knowing one’s actually existed. If you don’t remember anything, you don’t know you’re there. Time. The flowing of time. The true nature of time is a spiral; not a line with a definite start and a definite stop.
“Wake up.”
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