Maybe I need an Alexa. Voice activated, fingertips, serving up moments.
Do I need my phone? For ambiance? Where is it? I dont know.
I got it. Wiretap, play..this..
Music in the kitchen. Tunes in the bedroom. Romancing, Competence. Free to be me. A moment to relax.
Working together to make dinner, love, a life.
Moments that make up the fragments that make up the days that make up our lives.
I need the ease, the simplicity.
Life seemed so black and white. When did it fill with complexity? How did i end up back here again? Lost in the chaos, sprialing toward failure.
Repetition, end upon end.
I just want to keep the forward momentum. The achievement.
A back that isnt constantly full of tension. A chance to feel like myself without being forced to plan.
Why does there have to be work every moment I exist.
Can an Alexa fix this? Can an expensive knife set or a thousand plastic containers, show me the way?
A degree in pharmacology? Sociology? Health? Herbal medicine, maybe? Thats more my speed.
Let me go compost, plant a garden. Have a dog and inside cats, feed them treats. Share life stories, and music, drinks, and ideas.. things like that.
tell me please..
How do I incorporate all of this? How do i find happy? If I care enough, can I capture a dream? Desire just beyond reach.
Seems like I had that once, maybe. Perhaps, it was a fleeting memory. Life keeps moving on without me. I find myself tumbling.
Are you falling? Or are you falling, as well? Words can mean many things. English is swell.
I can hope, and I can dream, and I can work towards being good enough for a life that seems, at ease.
There would be strife below the surface. Don’t lie to me.
It would be no more than two can handle. Divide and conquer.
Freedom in unity.
It is something that is created with care, intuition, effort and truth.
Not, something you walk into.
I’m learning.
Im wishing I could take part in this. Then again, would i even know I was living in eutopia, until the end of it?
Moments are such small things, they fill the days. Days dribble into weeks.
Sometimes months, end abruptly.
The pain passes more slowly than pleasure ever could.
Im left looking for the things I thought were good.
It trickles through my fingers like sand. Try as I may I cant make it stay.
Learning to blow glass never looked so good.
My life, Now. 