What?

An open mind, bubbling water and a glass flask with green liquid inside. Would you care to ask how I feel? Happy, empty, androgynous, concerned, sensitive, ambitious, sexual and yes of course belittled and common. I wrote on the first month of the year and I write again in the last, two people asked me, “You don’t write anymore?” I don’t remember what I said. Significance is like molten chocolate or good sex, after it has happened consumption is the only option. I was hopeful at the starting of the year, weak, vulnerable and gauging the height of muck in an open drain, I am energetic, spirited, lazy yet hopeful again. But the significance and intolerance of stillness that I fear stalls me. “Make me come baby, make me come, to the rhythm of life.”