Sitting at a desk made of a door
with some red wine
with very mild anxiety
and slight neck strain
Mostly excited and happy
Not believing how I could be unhappy
Remembering how when I am unhappy
I cannot believe I can ever be happy
Or that life is worth living
Life’s worth cannot be theorised or understood
An explanation is a waste of time
Life is felt
Love is a feeling
Beauty is a feeling
When you lose the feeling
life is lost
I’ve been swinging from branches
I’ve been hanging off branches
I’ve been letting go
and falling
Only to have to get up again
In this relentless cycle of
good vs bad feeling
The inescapable cosmos of feeling
Mixed states
Grey
never becoming white again