a task done successfully, a
peek of sun through the clouds that
will surely vanish again. a thought of
“tomorrow will be better” only
for tomorrow to be worse, only
to say it again the day after. a pattern
of my brain, unsteady rise and fall
both hopeful and doomed. the consistency
of inconsistency: of a ladybug leaving the window
only to appear on the door, only to
leave the door and yet come again next year.
i can only contain so much within me, with no foresight
of placing a quota on what's allowed inside.
too many good songs and i feel like i'll pass out,
an overwhelming sense of how small i am
in comparison to what i am holding.