Rust and rot, scum-
puddles and birdshit—
these things
never seem redundant. It's only
your humanity
that gets boring.
Whenever you
have no idea what to do—
move out
into a bustling street and
spread your wings
when that special,
end-of-the-day breeze is blowing,
and feel—
nothing happening
(as usual)
and just try to hang on
to the feeling
of not disliking yourself for it
anymore.
