Feeling cold when it's 62˚ outside
feeling the wind on your skin
seeing clouds get pushed out from over the moon.
wondering the next time you'll have sex.
wondering the next time you connect with somebody and it really feels like you understood one another and you said what you really wanted to say -
maybe having not been able to say it before, or saying it the best you've ever been able to up until that point in your life.
forgetting what that really is.
wondering if you've ever really had that.
being nostalgic for a situation you opted out of,
even if that meant for your better mental health.
wondering what mental health is.
=
thinking there is a clean slate,
looking up "tabula rasa" in the dictionary.
writing a list of things to do, accomplishing it,
writing another list of things to do,
crossing things off and still wondering what it means to be,
in love.
=
love is a deep sorrow and a high spring,
it is an immense feeling that has facets like a natural uncut diamond.
i wonder if i can stop wondering and redirect my energy to something more useful although i've been aware fr// Awake,,,
for 17 hours having driven 3 hours, moved and chopped logs, did movements, cleaned, and played drums,
and i cant sleep.
=
is art my neurosis,
my neurotic nature,
my drive,
my sex?
=
inter-coursing from the air to my blood,
tasting potato chips and toothpaste,
clutching a hexagonal pen that's uncomfortable while my nose runs.
=
this may be the worst art and
not in a "good" way.
I cant doubt others' feelings but i doubt myself.
does having a big ego stop that?
or do i just give up for something less
although my heart begs for something more.
and does that qualify me as a masochist.
