Illusion of Happiness

THERE ARE CERTAIN THINGS THAT LOGIC

CAN’T WITHSTAND.

A DASH OF FEAR, A SLIGHT OF HAND.

I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT UP

TOO OFTEN I JUST FUCK IT UP

THERE IS SO MUCH RESISTANCE

TO JUST BEING, EVEN THOUGH ‘BEING’ IS THE FOUNDATION OF JOY.

WE STRIVE FOR SOME ARBITRARY ILLUSION OF HAPPINESS BUT

WHAT IF HAPPINESS IS ALREADY HERE -

IN THE SONG OF THE BIRDS, THE BLUE OF THE SKY,

THE SPIRAL SHELLS THAT GRACE THE STONE WALLS OUTSIDE MY WINDOW?

WHAT OF THIS PAIN, THAT SITS IN THE CHEST

I DON’T EVEN HAVE THE WORDS TO EXPRESS

THE SPEED WITH WHICH IT CAME AND WENT

IN THIS GAME OF LIFE THAT IS A CONSTANT

REVOLVING DOOR OF DEATH AND REBIRTH

SUFFERING AND MIRTH

INSTEAD OF CONTINUING TO FIGHT, I WRITE -

AND LET THE MONKEYS PLAY ON.