I have come down with the flu and as of five minutes ago I was laying in bed, but then the new iphone “journal” app, (which is MANDATORY if you update your iOS) beckoned to me with a little push notification.
So I opened it up, and started writing and this little poem came out. And because I am still feverish, I shall now share it here.
[Prays]
is effusive praise required to know that I'm desired? is your tacit approval enough to grant removal of my idears from between my ears and into public space in my mind i fall behind but out there i could fall on my face how to know i'm good good enough to show the answer is what I decide of this truth, I know I know it in my brain and intellectually but how to know it in my soul i search desperately for now its your remark and on your like i hang my aptitude is based on mood hows the algorithm today? somewhere inside i know i'll learn to seize my days but until then, and often, please send effusive praise.
PS: Letters from Love with Elizabeth Gilbert this week asked for musings on the word “worth,” and the response really slaps.
I enjoyed this!