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


never becoming white again