Let it be uncomfortable
There is no control. Illusions once shattered will always remain in shambles. Cut your hands gripping the loss if the pain will bring comfort.
I was formed by a different kind of Commonwealth, one I think few people outside the Bluegrass would expect.
One foot watching the doorway, the other counting the exits.
Imagine how we’d live to see the day if the different colors in our skin didn’t require products to make it more uniform.
I manage my time around the warmth of not needing an escape.
My taste changed when there was enough distance not to hope for a moment of time over tea.
The change I crave is uncomfortable.
It is an unruly child screaming at a pitch fit to pierce attention.
I stick my neck out. Because I will break before I see a system make another bend too far.
How silly it is to be confident in the structure of a minute.