plain

my mind is usually a dangerous place to be in.

thoughts flying every which way, voices speaking over other voices, busy and loud. 

and i like that, and i like in yoga and in breath when that all clears and its just me in yoga and in breath.

the past few weeks have been quiet. but not yoga (and post-yoga) quiet. 

without drive to investigate to probe to dive. 

it seems instead that that would all be very exhausting.

and that’s how i know i’m ill.

because this hunt for anything, this curiousness that i follow, is quiet. or blank. or rot. 

not helped by the sterility of this week’s hospitals and needles and IV

mind on a me-normal day