Like most cursed people,
i wake up with complete abandon.
There is not a single thought of how much sun or night ill see.
I dont know what madness the day will hold.

Sometimes i am so strict with myself: eat only green, be absolutely perfect and punctual with everyone. I mean keep plans or make them. Cross off items on a list, grocery shop with a new leaf in my jeans;
a recipe. Squash, parsley.
Ill make two just to fuck the next three days away. Comatose or belittling myself.
Stare at the screen. Cover the mirrors, bathe for two or three hours.
every day erases itself as the seconds pass. Theres no “progress.” Im inclined to embrace true form—a moving, beating thing.

As she turns, she becomes a sandstorm so when people ask me in earnest, with complete affection, platonic curiosity, what I do all day. when i finally make or keep a commitment, i sort of shrug, debate saying my favorite: let the wind take me.

But really I smile, just happy I made it.
dont say anything.