My heart is a steak marinated in love, tender from nashing, raw, then seared, asizzle
Author: Dave
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Plated
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feel happyFlow
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Universe, You allow me my happenstance and I happen to love you.
Happenstance
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The lake luxuriates in deep infinity
Float
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so low my fruit heavy bearing your light bare feet piercing me with their high heels
Pigéage
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Beauty before doubt
Manners
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I left my apartment windows open — I am wild that way — and the rainstorm ruined the place to teach me a lesson. I caulked the cracks in the plaster and found patches from before. I repainted the walls and noticed the hasty paint job; the corner’s curves giggled as I lay down the painter’s tape; my soul felt the healing of wet, tender bristles on the wood’s latex skin over cracks, bulges, bumps, and bends. This place was alive with getting put together and falling apart again. I beheld its incurable quaintness and brutal, undeniable charm. Forlorn, I came to understand I would only add my own mistakes. I lay in bed; the walls were mine. The apartment an awning of wilderness.
Maintenance
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The most important thing about a loved thing is it is loved
Where it’s at
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There is something in spontaneous being that defies analysis. That analysis, set apart from spontaneous being, searches for cheating rules when, without rules, being one’s self is not the rule, but simply the way. One sells one’s self short attempting to package one’s self into something that fits when fitting is supposed to be the substance. The broad expanse of the self, the contemporality of the self is that most precious elixir of the self we fain would capture if we could without denying its essence.
Dry Terms
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So much beautiful wild
my littleLittle
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