What are we supposed to do with life? I know there are a million and one set formulas to follow but is there not more to life than following a set of instructions? Of course there is. We can go off-the-narrative-grid if we feel brave enough. Or we can lay in bed and dream. What do you think?

I wrote this poem this morning. I have a busy day ahead and I’m in a bit of a hurry. So this poem is very first-draft. In fact, it’s more like a scribble. But I thought I’d share it.


when soft
asks no questions
seeks no answer
leaves no trail

life is always
an invitation
to die

is a prison
of misunderstanding

here we are again
in bed
locked neatly together
the inevitable
as love sits on the sill in the sun
harvesting the days

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