A Thought Flung Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

In so many ways, I’m hungry. But I’m not distraught. I’m alive. I desire. And that is natural. I’m alright.

Poverty will get the best of you if you let it. But as long as you use its effects to validate your humanity, a cool head will prevail over circumstance. And you’ll live to eat again.

My reason is pure, in that it’s wild. I’m an animal. And so I thrive in discomfort. May I destroy any thought that indicates otherwise.

May my words always represent the reality of chaos, which always eludes evaluation. To know them is to express them. To know me is to dissolve like clouds unto the ground.

Come feast with me. I have nothing. It’s delicious; tastes like hot sauce and finger sweat. It tastes like life – divine.