thoughts running through my mind and intertwine and rhyme like poetry.
mornings reaching extreme mellowness
all the way to bubbling excite,
because there is so much uncertainty.
who the fuck thought we needed to figure things out and passed this idea on?
we are here, right now.
why do we fear what will be recognized as the past eon,
and hell bent on how the future will appear?
I’d be worried too,
only if I didn’t forget there is nothing to fear,
since I am living only now.
no other way,