You take your chances when you write raw and in the moment. So many human moments are not bedazzled and beautiful.
Truth in a moment is not necessarily true in time. Still, there is beauty in a yawlp, grains of something worth consideration in what comes of instinct and impulse. Sometimes I'd like to know that it's a test, to see who is worthy; who is strong enough bear the weight of this true self.


Most times I know I don't know shit. And now, today, it's OK to have an inkling.

Like lovers, they may come and go, but they were there. And when we are no longer lovers, there is still the impression, the pure raw unfettered primal release. The beauty of the memory, the pain of absence, the anxiety of uncertainty, leave no room for regrets.

No regrets, longing perhaps, Not regret.