2021 April 27
I've been writing poetry every day now for the past month, or just about every day. It feels good to have done something consistently and I know that real growth happens with repetition. I get bored with doing the same thing over and over, so I inevitably seek out a variation on whatever it is that I repeat, which can mess things up when I've struck gold on the outset.
It's a fear of missing out kind of mentality. Anxiety at the missed shot. How do you know if it's your shot? You just know.
"I don't know"
I've written something that's very much a draft and very disconnected and incoherent in it's flow and form, but I know it's tapping the surface of something juicy/valuable. It's the wall of a berry, just before the bite.
Here it goes:
There's a social distance that was widening before any sickness kicked in
The digits have been crawling like spiders on screens and functions of programming
Code distillations
Alcoholics immunized by the second dose of drink
Licking lips in thirst, behind a mask
Tracing the contatct lenses of the wise but insecure,
hoping, doping for a feed
A friend in need wants you to fund them and their kickstarter page
Go find me, play hide and seek, and then come find me
If you're serious, you can't play on the playground
If you don't have a vaccine of empathy, you can't have my time, a circular clock that surrounds
the Business world in herd immunity,
in divisions of 2s, 4s, 12s, 30/31s, and sometimes
1, 5, 10, 20, 25, 50, and 100s of years
Thanks for reading.