Sowing Seeds

Happiness hangs on secret hopes
a strange, simmering sentimentality
a delicious half-formed delusion
that cannot possibly end well

The dizzy, lurching, sea-sick love
that has no real place in reality
humoring the hazardous pleasure
that will inevitably harden into pain

Enjoying the act of sowing old seeds
without worrying what the blossoms will be
is it wasting water to plant a garden
just to savor a few rare moments of sunshine?

Formerly Vegan

"I used to be vegan"
all smiles as they say this
confident this confession
has shown me that they
are one of the good ones

"I get it" they assure me
with their eyes fixed on mine
the strange sense of pride
that emanates from
their knowing smirk

I've never quite understood
why this is believed to be ingratiating
I'll let you in on a little secret
if you're a proud former vegan
I like you less than a life-long carnist

This comradery you imagine between us
only exists in your delusional mind
at least a non-vegan can feint ignorance
most people just don't understand
but you're a different breed

You've seen what I've seen
you've let it sink into your bones
let it change your whole being
then actively chosen to return to brutality
exploitation, suffering, and violence

All I see is the allegory of the cave
Plato knew it would be hard to believe
the world we've always known was all shadows
this I can understand, because I once lived
shrouded in the same blissful darkness

But Plato didn't account for anyone
knowingly turning back into the cave
the frustration of seeing someone learn the truth
and then throw it away in favor of comfortable illusion
that's worse than never seeing the light


The wicked humor of humanity
is distraction sold as a delicacy
the art of always having too much
power and opulence
taking the place of happiness
rising above the supposed stupidity
of our ancestry, of all lesser beings
perpetual progress opined
by those who have forgotten intention
productivity over purpose
mistaking momentum for meaning
drugged and disconnected
digging deeper holes into delusion
dancing frantically towards
our own destruction
the legacy of becoming lost

Trading Pain for Pleasure

How much pain are you willing to put up with to keep someone close to you? I’ve been asking myself this question for a long time now. Some days I feel like I would sacrifice anything just to have that special connection. Other days I wonder if it’s really worth it, if I’m just addicted to reopening old wounds in a desperate attempt to feel something again. I can never decide what would truly be best for me. Should I try to protect myself and try to give up these feelings? Or should I follow what I feel no matter how painful the outcome? Can I really trust these feelings? Or am I deluding myself?

I always feel like there are two sides of me constantly arguing with each other. My brain, my logical self says, “Move on! You are being stupid. This is pathetic. You are romanticizing the past. There is nothing but suffering to be had by clinging to a memory.” But my heart, my emotional self says, “Nothing else makes me feel like this. Nothing else makes me feel anything. That has to mean something. I don’t know what, but I can’t ignore this pull. Everything else seems grey by comparison.” My brain interrupts in protest as I try to express this ineffable feeling, “You are a literal crazy person. You are one of those creepy, stalker, weirdos. You’ve lost sight of reality.” The shame and embarrassment of this likely conclusion usually halts me in my tracks, keeps me from acting, keeps me from even pondering the question anymore.

I am so terrified that any further attempts to reach out will only reinforce this idea in the mind of this other person. Is that how they see me already? Would they be right in seeing me that way? Maybe so. For the longest time, I felt cheated and insulted by the idea of mere friendship. Now I am horrified that I turned my nose up at such a generous offer. After all that I have done, I don’t really even deserve that. And maybe because of those past mistakes, those egregious, selfish acts, I should resign myself to this bond being forever severed.

I’ve genuinely never felt closer to anyone, never been known so deeply by anyone, never cared to know anyone else so deeply in return. But perhaps this fixation, this constant clinging, is what has been preventing me from developing any other significant relationships. Then again, I always come back to the question: Is it even up to me? Am I even able to truly let this go, even if I decided I wanted to? It seems like right now, the best I can manage to do is go numb, to not think about it. In fact, just writing this all out has left me emotionally exhausted. I think it’s about time to stop for now.

Photo by Lisa Fotios on