buzz

The city is buzzing right outside my window as I look out searching for sister moon, begging her to send some seeds to fulfil what is almost a longing for a story that has never existed, and one that just never might. I know it’s been a while since I wrote what has been going on in my head, picked up a camera and captured a scene that touched me and left me on the verge of inspired tears, or even drew a single line on a piece of paper aiming to find meaning in it. Honestly, it’s been a long while since I’ve had a powerful moment of inspiration, where even the joyful sounds of the street remind me of home by the sea on a cold winters evening, where I could not wait to sit down at the nearest cafe to pick my pen up and scribble any thoughts— without the solar virgo in me stopping for a second to check if my handwriting is ‘aesthetic enough’ and whether it still resembles that of a 6 year olds, even more ironically, whether my soy latte is getting cold as I write. I long for any thoughts that could give me the same feeling of moths chasing light inside my stomach like a few did prior, only then perhaps I could step out into the crowd, aim for nothing

and simply

disappear.