Walking down the city boardwalk I am in pursuit of a greater evening.
It is a miracle and a privilege to be alive and doing nothing at all.
I commiserate and I conversate with the crowds of nobody relevant.
Sometimes I let words unentangle their tongues in my pockets.
My hands are at home there in the middle of the knot undone.
What is every knot but another metaphor for the labourer’s fist.
I am blessed to not need to be in love because I am still alive.
How blessed that I can be alive completely independent like cacti.
Or a bud sprouting out of the sidewalk, through the tarmac’s teethy
cracks, in the midst of the haze and dust and ash and ash and ash.
I am taking a breather outside the Esplanade to catch a quick smoke.
The box they let us do it in is just big enough for a baby to be made.
Or at least, that’s what has been said on the internet, I wouldn’t know.
I mean who knows anything anyway – I merely am. I merely am
following this path that constructs itself in the wisps of tomorrow.
Every night fucks every day up, every day fucks every one up.
That’s an example of a simplified thread, but it lacks delicacy.
In a way, it’s like a rational ration, made just to sustain, to keep
us going insane in a world that demands us to stop thinking.
I wanted to wear flowers on my back so I bought a shirt of flowers.
My friends asked me why I wanted to be colourful and the question
itself was surprising. When did we learn to settle for drabness?
When did we learn that we are nothing more than alive.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.

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