in your heart and an itch to
fill it up no matter what.
There should be restlessness
in your fingers to keep scratching-
You gotta keep the wound alive.
Like how there should be a
mountain and an ache in your
legs to climb it up.
Like how your hand should
look forward to swimming in
the open sea, at least once.
There should be invisible wings
that flap for a mysterious flight.
There should be an imaginary
sky that shines only for you
to keep your delusions intact.
And somewhere far away,
by a creek or amidst a forest,
there should be a wishful house
made of sticks and stones.
And to spend a good chunk of
your life, there should be an
equally mad companion to
tag along.
And after spending the first
chilly night by the campfire,
you gotta wake up to a new
hopeless horizon to help yourselves
with a steamy beverage that's
really bad.
You gotta have a special kind
of 'keeda' to romanticize it,
like you're gonna repeat it again.
And to call discomfort an
adventure. A bad drink, a tradition.
and the cold, an intimacy-
Oh they said to stare back at
the abyss when the abyss stares
at you, but you went ahead and
took a piss in it.
And why shouldn't it be alright?