I never would've laid in this grave of a body for so long

I will open this blog session with a poem I recently wrote, and end it with one written quite awhile ago (and certainly not written well, but whatever):

" iowa mothers clothed in the death of husbands
potato one, two, planting
potato three my country tis of
liberty of trees desolate of branches
of saints sinking in shallow waters
whether daughters crave desire for their
fathers

minnesota lakes filled with protestants
scripture abiding vagabonds, nomadic
once with homes
going there is nothing
more than leaving "





It's time to leave.

Danika's text today: "You need to not convince yourself that you are at peace with just anything but that you are at peace with yourself."

She also made me tell her what it feels like to not be at peace. I told her it feels like I'm hungry all the time, but cannot ever eat food in front of me. Constant tension is in my muscles due to my horrible posture. Often I would love to cry, but I just can't make it happen. I'm completely turned off to erotic thoughts at this point, which honestly I think is a shame because sex drive is part of our humanity, part of what mysteriously makes us gorgeous as people.

Finals need to end. When I go home, I will realize my house is a temporary thing and that earth is home. I certainly like finals week; it's pretty chill and good conversations abound. Maybe that's the problem though, even when something is good in life, I'm always waiting for the next thing. The next step. The next phase of progress. No more progress, Phil. Just wake up, breathe, smile, enjoy. Smiling. I can't do it without people around. For the sake of heaven, what am I doing alone in my room right now? I'm just going to go read outside of the dining hall (pancake night) and let the ambiance of chatter circle around me. That will feel good.





" A cycle of birth, growth, and death.
The sky holds a dangerous sense of wonder.
Walking, talking in vain.
I know these tracks.
I make and remake them by day.
By night I fly through clouds,
Finding beauty is nothing more than what I've seen.
I've yet to scope the Northern Lights,
But surely he keeps nothing more in his pockets.
Vacant pockets.
Empty hearts of a seemingly true state of content.
I left the globe for the same reason I had came. "

3 days to go. But I can't be making an attempt to run away from something. I have to be running toward something. Or at least not putting the future on a pedestal, neglecting present community.