if there is a place to bury hurt
i haven’t found a grave deep enough
if there is a way to wash it off
i haven’t found water salty enough
if there is a way to burn it
there’s no fire blue flame stricken enough

maybe then, its job is to stay
until i become the way


in naivety, we look to hoard the things that weigh us down,
and excise the things that may be our calling.
how do we even know that all this stuff we complain of,
is not in an ultimate wisdom the stuff that is meant to fashion us.


And some music to help the staying process

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