A less common type of anxiety is,
feeling like you're constantly searching for something,
but having no idea what is you're looking for–
only knowing that there is something missing–
and never finding it.
I guess
I’ll keep putting one foot
in front of the other,
and continue to search
for something that I don’t know is real.
Because,
what other choice do I have?
-C.H.
Why is it that we are so eager to appreciate the beauty of a: flower, or a waterfall, or the stars, or a sunset; but we are hardly ever that open to seeing the beauty in each other? Why is that, dear
“A simple request” she says, “Speak to me in poem, intrigue my mind with your words, genuine and authentic, for your words become actions, are the framework of our relationship, and have the power to
There’s a camera on top of the building Next to this one And it points Right at me I lift up my shirt And flash it my hairy nipple Then I give it the finger It moves with me Turning as I walk away fro
