// this never dies //

b e

8/29/18

why can I not just let myself be.

when I smell the tranquility of the eucalyptus mint

when I hear the sounds of the black bass

when I see the soft orange pink skies,

my brain cannot relax into gratification.

I find comfort, a sense of relief if you will, in pessimism.

the void of existentialism.

the scary vastness of the dark blue oceans.

it buries me deep and devours me.

but it is strange home.

//h.g.