March 10, 2026

my own imagination
is a fickle, fickle place

sometimes a comfort

sometimes an anxiety-ridden nightmare
full of all the fuel i put into it
over years and decades of
self-hatred
and self-loathing
and self-harming
and imploding
and all i thought i’d want to accomplish
and all i still want to do
but am frozen to
the spot when i try to try

maybe
as with the imagination
i just need to keep on
gently
trying
and exploring
till i find a neat little [abandoned] space
and sit inside it
for a while

January 17, 2026

distract yourself with crimson glaze
with pink chiffon
with aesthetics and
art

[is art a distraction?
or is it a human need?]

[or is distraction itself
sometimes
a need?]

[i don’t know
i don’t know
i try to speak for
the entirety of the human race
but so few of them make any sense
to my own senses
that i’m simply trying to
live life
i’m simply trying to
continue to
want to live life
keep life
going
i’m simply trying to
try
sometimes
not even all the time
just
sometimes
sometimes sometimes
sometimes be my own human self
sometimes try to speak for
those in the human race that today’s humanity
seems to leave behind
sometimes try to
connect with others
in a way that
raises both parties up
from one level of existence
to another
greater
kinder
more enlightened
not to be better than others
but to carry everyone
with us — if i share enlightenment with three people
and each of them share with
three more
how long until we have all of humanity
together
and looking out for
each other?]

this rambling poem
is to say
as much as i feel like i
will never understand the
rest of the human race, i keep making art
for them for them for them
for the connection to get to know them
and have them know me

i can’t help it

that’s part of living as/with
humanity